


Birthright

by Mahkachan



Series: The Parent Trap [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Aromantic Asexual Alastor, Daddy Issues, Eating Disorders, Everyone Needs Therapy: the fanfic, Family Secrets, Found Family, Gen, Group Dad Alastor, Half the cast has daddy issues, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Parent-Child Relationship, Parental Alastor, Protective Alastor, Smart Angel Dust, The other half just has regular issues, Trans Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Trans Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Transphobia, Trauma, background Charlie/Vaggie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 112,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahkachan/pseuds/Mahkachan
Summary: A family is more than the people you are related to.Angel Dust was happy to consider the residents at the Happy Hotel his makeshift family, the ones he could count on the most while he was at his worst. However, one game of Truth or Dare casts doubt on everything he believed about himself, his father, his siblings, and, more importantly, Alastor.
Relationships: Alastor & Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: The Parent Trap [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661011
Comments: 279
Kudos: 366





	1. Truth or dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could one simple game night end in such a disaster?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy, how y'all doing?
> 
> My name's Mahka and I'm invading this fandom with my crazy fics. I love Hazbin Hotel, and one day I had a "light bulb" moment and I've been fantasizing about this idea ever since. It's quite the weird idea so please bear with me here. I was very lazy writing this chapter so for some time I just sat around listening to music while writing this. I hope it's good enough :> also, let me tell you, I LOVE writing the relationship between Crymini and Baxter. It's a very Sam Puckett/Freddie Benson relationship. Maybe a relationship will bloom? Eh, who knows. All I know is that I love writing about it. Also, hopefully I don't lose passion halfway through. I already have the whole thing planned. AND a sequel.
> 
> With that said, enjoy the chapter!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: REFERENCED EATING DISORDER, REFERENCED VOMITING.

The tension was nearly unbearable.

Charlie watched, nervous, as all the patrons of her hotel stared at each other with distrust, unable and unwilling to cooperate with each other. It did not matter that they all had poker faces that perfectly masked all of their emotions, because their eyes didn't lie. There was a glint of suspicion as they dared trust no one other than themselves. As if that wasn't enough, there was a heavy aura surrounding the room that made the air that much more heavy. It was much more intimidating considering the living room was completely silent, save for the sound of the whirling blades of the ceiling fan that Charlie had turned on because of how hot it was. She didn't even know why she tried, seeing as the fan was barely doing anything. She was still sweating (more out of anxiety than biology, she admitted). Her gaze fell on Angel Dust, already knowing he had something planned. She just didn't know what.

Angel Dust just smiled to himself. He could feel the others staring at him with the pure intention to take him down, but he wasn't giving up so easily, especially when he had already won. His smile widened as he gracefully slammed down his second to last card.

"Uno."

A chorus of groans of disappointment followed, much to Angel's delight. He took one last look at his opponents before establishing himself as the undisputed king of Uno. Vaggie had twelve cards, coming in last place. How she reached this point, nobody knew. Niffty was second to last, with nine cards, although she did not seem to care, as staring at Baxter seemed more important to her. Speaking of which, he looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, eight cards in one hand and a calculator in the other. Charlie, bless her soul, was at the verge of an anxiety attack, her six cards long forgotten, anxiety high, as if she knew something they didn't. Mimzy came in fourth place, with five cards at hand, although she wasn't fully invested in the game either, and would every so often choose to stare at Alastor instead (Angel didn't blame her). Husk, who had perfected his poker face, was unreadable, although the way he nervously drank his beer indicated he was a bit peeved, despite having four cards and being in third place. Sharing the second place was Crymini and Alastor, both with two cards at hand. Crymini would sometimes make a neck slicing motion to Alastor, who gracefully chose to not reply.

And, of course, he was in first place. One more round went by as he wondered what Vaggie, who was the player before him, would do, since she would undoubtedly try to sabotage his victory. When her turn came, she put down a four-plus card on the pile, allowing herself to smile a little. "Sounds like you're not going to win anymore," she said with an air of superiority, as if she had just beat a world champion in chess. "So much for being the king of Uno." Angel Dust decided it would be fun to entertain her.

"Oh no, not a four-plus!" he said with a faux dramatic voice, putting a hand on his forehead. "Oh, whatever shall I do now with this card?" He then turned his last card around, revealing it to also be a four-plus. He laughed, basking in the sweet, sweet irony. "Game over, motherfu—"

"Haha, okay! How about, instead of insulting each other over a card game made for children, we do something else instead?" Charlie suggested nervously, interrupting Angel's curses. She knew she was responsible for this havoc in the first place, so she felt the need to keep the situation under control herself. Still, despite all the things that could, and probably would, go wrong, she was determined to continue. "How about another round?" she suggested, knowing it was a terrible idea and regretting letting that sentence leave her mouth.

"No, we're not doing this again," Vaggie immediately protested, as if having read her girlfriend's mind, rising to her feet. Only after doing that did she notice how sore she was. In hindsight, sitting on the floor to play a game that lasted about an hour wasn't the best idea. "Uno was the Pandora's Box that should have never been opened. Let's pick another game," she said as everyone stood up and Niffty cleaned their mess faster than they could ask her to. Damn, she was efficient. "Preferrably one that doesn't awaken bloodlust."

"The hell you staring at me for?" Crymini asked with arms crossed, as Vaggie's stare shifted from Charlie to her.

"You threatened to take Baxter's calculator and shove it up his ass."

"And I had every right to! Who brings a calculator to fucking Uno?!" she asked in disbelief, shooting Baxter a chilling glare. Charlie sighed. It was going to be a long night. Despite her unrelenting determination, she was starting to regret a lot of decidions in her life. Vaggie gave her girlfriend a sympathetic glance, which Charlie recognized to also be her girlfriend's 'you brought this upon yourself' face, since she had also been roped into this mess. Sometimes she wished Charlie thought things through instead of hastily 'following her heart', like she put it, and getting them in trouble all the time, like right now.

Baxter hugged his calculator to his chest, afraid that, if he let his guard down, Crymini would take it and either break it in tiny pieces or make good on her threat (or both, which was way worse). "My calculations must be precise so that I can play the best cards of my deck and thus get the best outcome out of the game."

Crymini stared at him for a moment, as if debating mentally on whether she should defenestrate him or not, and then turned back to the others. "Anyone else see this bullshit? I'm doing you all a favor, really." It was clear that she was not a fan of Baxter. She never was, really, ever since he joined the hotel shortly after she did. She found his smarter-than-thou attitude grating. Luckily for her, he was really easy to bully.

"Do not refer to my calculations that way!" There it was. To put it simply, the easiest way to offend Baxter was to attack his scientific practices, even the more... Morally questionable ones. Crymini was particularly fond of this method, and applied it every day. "Science is not, as you vulgarly say, 'bullshit'! It is the basis for everything that exists."

Crymini smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Then how come you lost?"

"That's enough fighting, you two!" a soothing but stern voice interviened, cutting their argument short. They turned to find Mimzy sitting in one of the stools of the bar, a look of boredom plastered on her face as she leaned her head against her hand. She had been witnessing their fights nearly every day, and almost always she was the one who put an end to it. It was getting tedious and giving her a headache. She hated having to be the adult between these two. Crymini seemed to be on the verge of retorting, so Mimzy clapped her hands together to get everyone else's attention (and to shut her up). "I have an idea! How about we play Never Have I Ever?"

Angel Dust immediately perked up upon hearing that. "Hell yes! Now we're talking!" A game where you could find out about other people's lives? Count him in.

"What is Never Have I Ever?" Charlie asked, clearly confused. It was only natural. She had never been a human, so of course human games eluded her, especislly those that required one to have someone else to play with you. Charlie grew up very isolated and lonely, with only her toys to keep her company (two of which became living beings later, which is a story for another day). Uno was a foreign concept to her, and they ended up needing to explain the rules twice. In the end, she got the hang of it. Unfortunately, she barely got to play the game, too focused on keeping the peace to look at her own cards. Perhaps that was why she lost.

"I'll explain, but first we need alcohol," Mimzy said.

"That's not happening," Vaggie replied curtly. With Alastor tossing the 'no alcohol' rule out the window by dropping an open bar in the middle of the living room that also served as a front desk, it was hopeless to try to prevent patrons from drinking, but they still tried, and by 'they' she meant Charlie. She was the heart and soul of the hotel, and did everything to make sure her patrons were on the right path to redemption. Right now, the last thing they needed was all of them under the influence of alcohol.

"That's fair." Mimzy shrugged her shoulders, not seeming too bothered about not being allowed to drink. Out of all the patrons of the Hazbin Hotel, she was Vaggie's favorite, especially because of that answer. Mimzy was such an easygoing person, which was a breath of fresh air compared to the others, who were like toddlers that had been left near matchsticks. "Do you have any sour candies or something of the sort, then?" Vaggie had played Never Have I Ever before, so she knew what Mimzy was trying to do here, and she appreciated it. Replacing alcohol with sour candies, which was like a punishment to mankind (who ate these things?), was smart.

"Oh, I do! I'll be right back," Charlie said before turning around and heading to the kitchen, very excited to be able to help. Vaggie started following her, giving Mimzy a look she knew she would understand. 'Keep an eye on them', it said, and Mimzy nodded. It wasn't like she hasn't done that before. After the living room was out of sight, Vaggie made her way to her girlfriend, who was rummaging through the cabinets when she heard the sound of a throat being cleared. "Vaggie! Did you come here to help?" she asked, turning back to the cabinets to try and find the bag of candies she had bought earlier for an occasion like this. Had she misplaced it? Where was it?

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Alone."

"About what?" Charlie asked as she opened cabinet after cabinet trying to find the sour candies. She definitely misplaced them, or someone else ate them. She hoped it wasn't Alastor. She knew he had an affinity for sour things. Wait... "Aha! Found them!" she cried out victoriously, brandishing an enormous bag of dark blue candies. So Alastor hadn't eaten them, after all. She was highkey surprised at that.

"Are you sure a game night was a good idea?" Vaggie asked, and that question made Charlie stop on her tracks and do a double take.

"Huh?"

"Look, I'm not sure that getting a bunch of morally corrupt and emotionally damaged demons together and pitting them against each other in a bunch of competitive games is a good idea," Vaggie explained, sounding very concerned. She was having Uno flashbacks, and that happened two minutes ago. The patrons couldn't be trusted to play competitively in anything, or else they'd be at each other's throats in minutes. Charlie knew that voice tone. It was her girlfriend's 'you're about to make a huge mistake' voice. She'd heard it before when Vaggie advised her not to sing during the idea introduction at 666 News. "You saw what happened with Uno, and that was the first game of the night! I think we should call it off."

"We can't call it off!" Charlie protested. She wanted to have a good game night, and she knew the patrons would be disappointed if they canceled it, especially those that had nothing to do with it and were well-behaved. "I'll get things under control, I promise. Besides, this game night is a reward, remember? If we don't give the patrons rewards for behaving well, what incentive will they have?" Vaggie bit her tongue, trying not to give a snarky reply such as ' _none, that's the point_ '. She still looked skeptical, too, considering she had been against this idea at first, claiming she had a bad feeling about it. It took a lot of begging and convincing on Charlie's part to get her on board.

Vaggie sighed. She couldn't argue with her girlfriend's logic. Well, she could, but she was too tired to do so. "Alright, but if a fight breaks out, we _are_ calling it off." Charlie eagerly nodded, choosing to accept the condition. She just hoped things would go off without a hitch. Perhaps she would be able to control them this time. Charlie tried to stay optimistic. The two then left the kitchen, Vaggie holding her girlfriend's hand, and went back to the living room. Mimzy had been left in charge by Vaggie with a very specific glance, and she did a really good job. Crymini and Baxter weren't fighting, and all in all the atmosphere was almost peaceful, which was a huge relief for Charlie. Being honest, she also wanted to have this game night for herself. It was her first time having friends, or even acquaintances, to play with, and she wanted to have a night where she could relax and play a few games.

"I got the sour candies!" Charlie happily announced, waving the bag around as it made a crinkling sound that most plastic bags do. She let go of her girlfriend's hand and handed the bag to Mimzy, who gladly took the bag out of her hands. "Now can you explain how to play the game? I've never played anything like that before." She felt a little bit of shame in admitting that, and she did feel guilty for having to have the rules of most games explained to her, but she genuinely did want to understand. She wanted to participate and play with her friends. She just hoped they'd be understanding and realize she needed some time to understand the rules.

"Well, let's sit down," Mimzy said, and then turned to the others, who were scattered across the living room. "Everyone, sit down in a circle! We're playing Never Have I Ever!" Crymini groaned as she stood up from the comfortable couch she was sitting on just to sit on the cold, hard ground, which wasn't fun. She also made sure to sit far away from Baxter, who had the same idea. Angel Dust, who had been messing on his phone and texting Cherri Bomb, quickly stood up from the couch and sat down. Alastor joined in shortly, followed by Husk and Niffty. Charlie gave her girlfriend an excited glance, bouncing on her feet, as the two of them sat down next to each other. Mimzy was the last one to do so, opening the bag of sour candies and putting it in the middle of the circle. "The rules are simple. When it's your turn, you must say 'never have I ever', followed by something you have never done. If someone else has done whatever has been said, they eat a sour candy. Usually it's with beer, but this works too."

"Oh, that sounds so exciting!" Charlie muttered to Vaggie, who gave her girlfriend a smile. It was nice to see Charlie enjoying herself for once. And she sounded so happy to be able to play these games, too. Vaggie hoped nothing would go wrong so that she wouldn't have to call things off. Seeing Charlie smile made her fall in love with her all over again. It was then that Vaggie realized that maybe she was right. They had all been very stressed, especially from running the hotel and putting the patrons in line, and deserved a break. She was a little excited to play it too. It had been a while since she had played Never Have I Ever.

"Who wants to start?" Mimzy asked. 

"I do!" Angel Dust immediately piped up, raising his hand. He was so excited to play this game. He played it all the time with his co-workers at the Porn Studios, but they had played too much and all knew each other's secrets already, so the game had gotten stale after a while. Even Truth or Dare had grown boring, since they all chose dare, as all the truths had already been out. He would play with Cherri Bomb, but playing Never Have I Ever with just one person wasn't how the game worked, and would eventually become a disaster of one-upmanship. He knew because he had already seen it happen with two co-workers of his. They were both wasted by the end of the game. Besides, he knew a lot of great questions, a few of which involved porn of some kind, but most of them were general questions.

"Please refrain from saying inappropriate questions!" Alastor said cheerfully, with his signature smile, although there was a hint of seriousness in his voice. Angel Dust knew he'd be asked to do this, especially considering all of the stereotypes that came with his persona as a porn star. It was almost hilarious. His eyes landed on the bag of candies in the middle of the room, and for a moment he felt sick at the thought, but he pushed through. He couldn't give up now, it would be too suspicious. Remembering Alastor's request, he dramatically rolled his eyes and crossed his first pair of arms.

"Well, there go half my questions!" he said jokingly, although he wasn't sure if the others saw it that way. Did it matter, though? He would be seen as nothing than a playful porn star for the rest of his life, so he might as well play the part. "Okay, here goes..." He paused for effect, the others bracing themselves for an inappropriate response. "Never have I ever been an only child." Ah, the perks of being a twin _and_ a younger sibling. He saw the confusion in the others' faces, before came the realization. Charlie laughed, and was the first one to reach for a sour candy in the bag, followed by Vaggie, Alastor, and finally Mimzy. So the others had siblings? Interesting. He watched, amused, as most of their expressions turned sour as the effect of the candy finally hit in. Most of them, except Alastor, because Alastor was a freak.

"Okay, my turn!" Charlie said, raising her hand in excitement, and then pausing to think. She was still chewing on the sour candy, and the effects had yet to lessen, so she was most likely making a face. Well, the others were too, so she couldn't complain. She had to think of something good... Oh, she had an idea! "Hmm... Never have I ever played Never Have I Ever until now!" Weaponizing her loneliness was the most clever idea she had all night, even if it was rather sad. The look on all of the other people's faces was priceless. They looked confused, yet to rationalize what had just happened. Vaggie snorted a little besides her, proud of her girlfriend for coming up with such a clever question. She didn't know Charlie would try to pull this kind of stunt, but was proud nonetheless.

"Wow, that was a very good one!" Mimzy praised her. She started reaching for the bag again when Vaggie respectfully raised her hand, having a question. Seeing this, Mimzy withdrew her hand and asked, "Yes, dear?"

"Do I have to keep two candies in my mouth or can I swallow this one?" she asked, pointing to her mouth. She didn't want to have to eat two sour candies at the same time, especially when there were more questions coming. If she kept this up, she would completely lose her sense of taste, as her tastebuds would be fried beyond repair.

"You can swallow it or spit it out on a trash can when you're going to eat another candy. Otherwise this would be torture," she said, chewing on her candy that had started to lose its sourness (thankfully). "Except for him." She then pointed to Alastor, whose grin widened as he reached for the bag and pulled out two more candies, eating them without even hesitating. Not because of the Vharlie's question, however. He just did it because he could. "He loves those things for some weird reason that is unknown to all of us." It was true. Mimzy knew Alastor since they were alive (something she was secretly proud of). The fact that he loved sour things always made her question his sanity, but he always said it was just a preference.

"I simply happen to like sour things," he politely explained. Mimzy knew there was more to it, but didn't want to go back and forth on the subject, especially since she wanted to keep playing the game.

"Is that why you like Husk so much?" Niffty asked 'innocently', but seemingly on purpose. God, what a blow to the soul. Angel and Crymini immediately burst out laughing, but Husk didn't seem to care. He just looked more dead inside than usual, taking one long swig of his beer. Alastor laughed, shaking his head. Ah, Niffty, she would never change. He was wondering when she would ask something like this. And, honestly, he was expecting that retort, just not from her. At least this had been very entertaining.

"Maybe!" he replied cheerfully. 

"Fuck all of you," Husk said, giving them the middle finger, and reaching for a sour candy, reminding them that they were still playing Never Have I Ever and not just bickering. The ones who reached for the bag were Mimzy, then Vaggie, followed by Crymini. The ones who hadn't eaten the sour candies in the first round made a face that could only be described as mild agony. When they thought that was it, and were ready to move onto the next person, Angel Dust reached for the bag, pulling out one candy. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes glimmering with what could only be described as fear. Charlie was the first one to notice as he hesitated on whether or not to eat it, before turning to her.

"Hey, this doesn't have peppermint, does it?" he asked, twirling the candy in his hand. Oh, so that's what he was worried about? That was a fair concern. Charlie was relieved it wasn't something more serious.

"Not at all," Charlie answered. She noticed he was still very hesitant, staring at the candy like it had killed his family and was pointing a gun right at his head. "Are you allergic? Is that why you're worried?" Charlie didn't know what else to think. Why else would he avoid peppermint, besides not liking the taste? And even then, who assumed sour candies had peppermint?

"Uh, yeah, but don't worry about it. It's not deadly or anything." He then ate the candy, feeling the sourness fill his mouth and making a face just like everyone else. It was a weird feeling, like there was a fire in his mouth. Certain parts of his tongue also hurt, du to the stimulation. How could a candy so small do something like this? How could Alastor like this? It was one of the many mysteries that would remain unsolved. Charlie looked at him with slight concern. He never told her he was allergic to peppermint. She loved peppermint! What if she had cooked something with it and he had eaten it without telling her? God, all of the possible scenarios. At least he said it wasn't deadly, which was a good thing. Well, now she knew, which was good. It meant she could tell Niffty to refrain from cooking anything with peppermint, even though she was right there, and probably heard it all. Ah, no, she was still focused on Baxter. Charlie mentally reminded herself to talk to her later.

"It's my turn, bitches," Crymini said enthusiastically, pausing for dramatic effect. Vaggie stifled the need to slap herself in the face. Of course they wouldn't go one day without cursing. Nobody in that hotel ever did. "Never have I ever lied during Never Have I Ever." Everyone stared at her for a moment, and then at each other. The awkwardness of the question was palpable as everyone wondered who would admit they lied in at least one game of Never Have I Ever. The first one to make a move was Vaggie, who swallowed her last candy and put another one in her mouth (she really couldn't catch a break). Then Husk reached for the bag and picked another candy, unfazed. No one else did anything. Crymini then turned to Angel Dust, who had been staring at his own lap for a while. He was hiding something, she was sure of it. It was clear as day, especially the way he was portraying himself. It wasn't Angel-like.

Angel must have noticed her staring at him, because he asked, "What are you staring at me for, toot?" 

Crymini raised an eyebrow. "You've never lied in a game of Never Have I Ever?" she asked. It didn't sound right, and was very hard to believe, if she was being honest. Angel Dust shrugged.

"Do I look like I try to hide things?" 

"Fair enough," Crymini replied, realizing that yes, he had no filter at all, although the way he portrayed himself was still suspicious. Vaggie was staring at her again, and she knew that stare meant 'you better not start shit again'. She decided playing along would be better, especially because she was having fun and she knew Vaggie would probably end the night right there if she started another fight. So, as much as she wanted to insult Baxter and smack his head, and maybe tell Angel Dust he was full of shit, she didn't do it for her amusement's sake. "Anyway, who's next?" she asked. Before anyone else could respond, she turned to Baxter. "Why don't you go next?" she asked in a polite voice. It seemed like she was trying to be nice, but there was an undertone of 'I will destroy you' that only he could notice. Crymini really wanted to see what he would come up with. Baxter didn't protest, as he had nothing to lose. "You'd better have a good one, geek," she murmured under her breath, being the only one who heard it.

"Never have I ever done something stupid while under the influence." 

More collective groans. It seemed like a lot of people had made bad life choices. Crymini was the first one to pick a sour candy, followed by Husk (that wasn't surprising), and then Niffty (this made a lot of people wonder what she did). Mimzy shook her head and picked one more candy, looking like she was ready to give up on life and regretting ever suggesting this. Once again, Angel Dust hesitated before putting his hand into the bag and pulling out a sour candy. He even hesitated putting it on his mouth, but did anyway. Charlie was worried that she had been mistaken and that the sour candy did contain peppermint. That was probably why Angel was acting so strange at the thought of eating it. However, wouldn't he have had a reaction by now if that was the case? Charlie gave Vaggie a look of concern, and her girlfriend then put her hand on top of hers in a show of sympathy. 

"Okay, my turn," Mimzy said, tired of eating sour candies. She was going to skip this turn. "Never have I ever stalked someone on their social media platform and accidentally liked one of their pictures." She had various friends who did this, but somehow she didn't. She just didn't have the emotional investment to stalk someone, and had much better things to do with her time.

"That's very specific," Charlie said, sounding a little scared for Mimzy, who just shrugged. 

"You wouldn't believe how many people do this. It's a human thing," she explained. She didn't imagine that royalty born in hell would stalk someone on social media either, since they were usually very busy doing royalty things. Charlie nodded, and looked around to see if anyone would come out to this very specific question. Surprisingly, Niffty did. She was the first one to come out, which made them all wonder what she did and who she stalked, especially since she did not seem like the type to be very keen on technology. However, it could only be assumed that it was a man, considering her constant need to physically stalk any man that set foot on the hotel, save for Husk and Alastor. The other one was Crymini, which wasn't as surprising. She looked like the kind of person who would do this repeatedly and have no shame. Vaggie was also a surprise. Charlie gave her a look of confusion, to which Vaggie mouthed 'human thing', telling her it hadn't been recently that she did this. It seemed like that was it, but, surprisingly, Baxter also reached for the bag for the first time. They all stared at him, aghast.

"What? I like following Flat Earth communities! Don't tell me you wouldn't if you were in my place." 

"We wouldn't," Crymini replied curtly. 

"You guys are amateurs, really. How do you like someone's picture without realizing it?" Angel Dust said, shaking his head. Crymini rolled her eyes. She was wondering why he didn't pick a candy. So he had never Fatebook-stalked someone ever without making a mistake? Actually, that did sound like him. He would probably like the pictures on purpose, just as a warning to the person he was stalking."Anyway, let's get moving with this game. My mouth is getting sore from eating candies all the time." Finally, something they all could agree on. Mimzy herself was getting bored of the taste of sour candy, and wanted to do something else, but she already doomed herself by proposing this in the first place. Everyone needed to ask at least one question for the game to end. While it wasn't the definitive rule, it was the rule that would make everyone feel included.

The rounds went by quicker than they realized. Niffty had said she never had a boyfriend, which was unfortunate but also understandable, and it ended with Charlie, Angel (who once again hesitated), Crymini and Mimzy eating sour candies, their displeasure and regret growing by the second. Alastor basked in their misery, eating some of the candy for fun. They all looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Charlie couldn't help but to look at Angel every time someone spoke, because of the way he acted. She was worried about him, and was sure that something was wrong, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. Husk admitted he never Gargled himself. Gargle was one of the most popular searching engines in hell, comparable to Google on Earth. Why someone would name it that, though, was beyond her. Vaggie didn't know why someone would want to Gargle themselves (she could barely think that sentence with a straight face), but maybe it was just because she wasn't famous for anything other than being Charlie's girlfriend, and she already knew how people felt about that (hint: it wasn't positive). As it turned out, Charlie and Angel Dust both had done exactly that, and hadn't found many informative things. Vaggie did notice Angel's hesitation, but it was probably because sour candies suck. In her turn, she said she never went to jail, which was a simple one. As it turned out, Baxter and Crymini were the only ones who had been caught doing something wrong. She was lowkey surprised.

It was Alastor's turn, and the last turn of the game. Everyone stared at him expectantly. "Never have I ever not killed someone." The room fell into silence. They were all well aware of Alastor's backstory, everyone was, they just didn't expect him to add it onto a game. Everyone looked at each other, wondering who would be the first to come out. Charlie was the first one to move, picking a candy and holding it in her hands. She stared at the tiny candy in her hands, a representation of what she believed in. _Never having murdered someone_ , she thought, holding the candy close to her chest for a minute, much to everyone's confusion. That was what she was fighting for. She then put the candy on her mouth, wincing at the bitterness. Mimzy was the second and last one to reach for the candy. Everyone else looked at each other. They had killed someone. That was clear. The air was heavy. Alastor seemed almost proud of ruining the mood of the game. Why were they even silent? It was not like killing someone was a big deal. But, in the context of a game like Never Have I Ever, it was a heavy subject.

"Anyway!" Mimzy broke the awkward silence by clapping her hands. "That was it, guys. What else should we play?" 

"Truth or Dare!" Angel Dust suggested, returning to his cheerful mood. He had been wanting to play it for ages, and it didn't involve having to eat candy, so it was even better. Mimzy nodded, finding that a good suggestion. At least there would be no more bitterness in her tongue. "I, uh, need to go to the bathroom, be right back. Go on without me for the time being!" He then left the living room in a rush. Charlie raised an eyebrow at the sudden action. That didn't sound like Angel Dust. The real Angel Dust would be offended if they didn't wait for him. Once again, this solidified her theory that something wasn't right. She wanted to go after him, but Vaggie stopped her, simply shaking her head. 'It was a bad idea', her eyes said. Charlie sighed. It pained her to do this, but she let it go. With Niffty taking out the bag of sour candies from the middle of the circle and replacing it with a used bottle of alcohol that Husk just finished, they were ready to play. Thankfully, they didn't need to move from their circle. It was easier that way.

"Do you know how to play?" Mimzy asked Charlie, who shook her head, although she did seem to have some sort of idea of what it would be like. "Ok, see this bottle? Someone here will spin it, and if the mouth of the bottle lands on someone, they have to answer a question if they pick 'truth', or do a dare if they pick 'dare'. If the bottom of the bottle lands on someone, they're the ones asking. Is it clear?" Yes, it's just like she thought it would be like, but it was nice to get a confirmation. It sounds like a fun game, she thought, wondering how it would play out.

"Crystal!" Charlie replied. 

"I'll go first," Niffty said, spinning the bottle, which spun for a good four seconds, leaving them all wondering who it would point to. In the end, the mouth of the bottle landed on Crymini, and the bottom on Niffty. "Truth or dare?" Crymini thought about it for a second, weighing in the pros and cons of each option (ew, she sounded like Baxter). Dare seemed to be the better option. She wasn't about to reveal her truths just yet.

"Dare." 

"I dare you to kiss Baxter." 

There was silence for a moment before everyone burst out laughing, even though Crymini did not find the situation funny in the slightest, and neither did Baxter. She gave him a bone-chilling glare before standing up and slowly making her way to him, making sure to stall as much as possible. Baxter, meanwhile, just wanted to run, although it wouldn't work, since she was faster (and stronger) than him. He learned that the hard way once. Crymini leaned down and pulled him up by the collar. Before Baxter could start loudly praying and begging for his life, though, she forcefully kissed him. It only lasted two seconds, but those were the two most uncomfortable seconds of his life, and that was an accomplishment considering everything he did in the name of science. After that, Crymini came closer and whispered to him, "You tell anyone outside this hotel, and you'll wake up without kneecaps, got it?" Baxter nodded frantically, and she dropped him. He landed on his bottom, letting out a yelp.

"Well, that just happened," said a voice from the entrance of the living room. It was Angel Dust. He had just arrived to see Crymini do the impossible, and he didn't know whether to find it hilarious or uncomfortable. Charlie noticed how his fur was a bit more dull than it was before, but he seemed much happier too. Angel made his way to his place in the circle after Crymini and Baxter parted ways in the least romantic manner. "What did I miss? Why did those two decide to make out in the least sexy way possible?" he asked, hoping someone would answer. He wished he had told them to wait so he wouldn't have missed this epic moment.

"I dared them to kiss!" Niffty replied cheerfully, trying to sound as innocent as she could.

Angel Dust smirked at her, pretending to wipe a tear from his left eye. "That was the best thing that happened to me this week. Thank you." Crymini shot him a glare, which he countered with his own glare. They stayed like this for a second before Mimzy spoke.

"Okay, look alive, people," she said, deciding to spinning the bottle herself, since it was clear Crymini wouldn't. The mouth landed on Charlie, and the bottom landed on her. It seemed like they were having good luck lately. "So, princess, truth or dare?" Charlie started sweating. She didn't want to kiss anyone either. Oh god, would Mimzy do that to her? Of course she wouldn't... but what if? Crymini probably wasn't expecting to be dared to kiss Baxter. Charlie didn't want to risk it. Should she say truth? But what kind of truth? Just an embarrassing truth, like how she was the one who slipped on a banana peel last week, or a huge truth, like how she had no idea if redemption was possible? Mimzy seemed to notice her distress. "Charlie, calm down, I'm going to take it easy." Charlie nodded, deciding to trust her. 

Taking a deep breath, she said confidently, "Truth."

"Good choice," Mimzy said, pretending to think about a question for Charlie. Truth is (ha, how ironic) that she already had one question picked out, one that would be entertaining. "What was the most 'rebellious teenager' thing you've done?" Charlie took a moment to process the question. Oh... Oh! She could work with that. That was a nice question. Charlie thanked Mimzy mentally, especially since she didn't have to answer anything particularly embarrassing. She thought about the question for a moment, wondering how to answer, before finding the perfect answer.

"My most rebellious act ever was opening this hotel," she explained, feeling her chest swell with pride. "My dad never truly believed in anything I did, and, when I told him about my idea to open a hotel made for rehabilitating sinners, he was... Unsupportive, to say the least. Against his wishes, I opened the hotel anyway. And every time I think about redemption, I am disappointing him," Charlie said, feeling a tingle of sadness on her soul. She then smiled again, feeling it fill with optimism. "But that doesn't matter, because I'm doing what I love. And that's my teenage rebellion story." She paused, and then added, "I also dyed my hair pink once." Mimzy nodded, stiffling a laugh. The princess was a box full of surprises.

"Ew, sentimental bullshit," Crymini complained, throwing her head back. She then leaned forward. "The hair dye was decent rebellion, though, I'll give you that, though I'm more fond of tattoos myself."

"Thank you, I suppose," Charlie replied awkwardly. She looked at Mimzy, wondering what to do. Mimzy pointed to the bottle, indicating she should spin it. Charlie nodded, grabbing the bottle and doing her best to copy what Mimzy had done. She had never spun a bottle before, after all. It spun for a few seconds before the mouth landed on Alastor, whose grin widened. Charlie noticed she had gotten the bottom. That was triple luck so far. "So, Al, truth or dare?" She was already coming up with possible dares for Alastor, since it was obvious he would pick that. Why tell the truth when you can do practically anything? Alastor seemed to think about it, but Charlie knew he was putting on a show, just like he always did. In the end, he was going to choose dare.

"I choose truth."

Well... She's been wrong before. Charlie tried to think, panicking a little. She was so sure that Alastor would pick 'dare' that she didn't choose any truths for him to answer. She thought, and thought, the miliseconds ticking by, until the perfect answer came to her. "What is your biggest regret?" _Is that too heavy for this game?_ She asked herself, especially since everyone went quiet all of a sudden. She had asked this in the heat of the moment, and it was the first question that popped up in her head. Everyone looked at each other, preparing for doom. Asking the Radio Demon a question like this was asking for trouble. Alastor closed his eyes, acknowledging the question and pondering the answer. Everyone started sweating, wondering what he was going to answer. There were so many possibilities, they had to admit they were curious.

"Hmm... It's a tie!" he replied. 

"His biggest regret is a piece of clothing?" Baxter whispered to Angel Dust, the one sitting closest to him. Angel rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to flick him on the forehead, choosing not answer him and focus on the game instead.

"A tie between what?" Charlie asked, a little afraid. She was intrigued now, but also wary. Alastor had two biggest regrets? That was definitely interesting. She almost didn't regret asking that question. Almost. She was afraid she had made this awkward, and would anger Alastor, but he clearly didn't mind (although the same couldn't be said for the others, who continued to stare at each other awkwardly). Speaking of which, he remained silent for a moment, making Charlie and Vaggie exchange confused glances. Was he doing this for dramatic effect? If so, it was working, because everyone eagerly awaited his answer. After three seconds of silence, as Alastor thought about his answer (which he didn't really need to think about at all), he said:

"It is a tie between not having killed my father, and having given up on my daughter." The room fell into a deep silence once again. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the ceiling fan's blades that were constantly spinning. The others could only also hear their own breaths and the sound of their beating hearts. Charlie felt like she had gone to another dimension and was now trapped there. Did... Did Alastor just say he had a daughter? Did she hear him right? Was she hallucinating? She did hear the fact that he wanted to kill his father very well, because she was used to people saying things like that (especially coming from Alastor, a famous serial killer). But one of the most intimidating overlords admitting he had a child she didn't know about? That was new. _Speaking of which, did anyone else find this shocking?_ She thought, wondering if she was the only one who thought this was a surprise. Of course they did, judging by the silence, which had been soon broken as soon as the room dove into complete chaos.

"You have a daughter?!" 

"What?" 

"What's her name?" 

"What does she look like?" 

"How come you never told me this?!" 

"Stop keeping secrets from us, you elusive bastard!" 

"That's so cute!" 

"What do you mean 'given up'?" 

The game of Truth or Dare had been long forgotten, and a new game of 50 Questions For Alastor began. Speaking of the devil, he remained quiet during all of those questions. It was understandable, he was probably overwhelmed. Judging by some of the questions, it seemed like nobody knew at all, not even Mimzy, who was one of Alastor's closest friends, especially since they were alive. Not knowing that your best friend had a child the whole time you became friends with him must have been rough, she imagined. Charlie kept looking at her own lap, questioning how everything got to this point. If she knew her question would cause this much of a distuption, she wouldn't have asked it, although a small part of her didn't regret it, because she was also curious. Alastor never indicated to having a family, much less a daughter. Did he have a wife? A girlfriend? Were they on good terms? And what about the daughter? What was her name and age? How did she look like? Did she look like her father? Charlie had so many questions, but she knew Alastor wouldn't answer them. At least not now.

"Settle down, everybody," Alastor said calmly, standing up. Everyone looked at him expectantly, wondering what he would say next. They were all hoping for some answers. It's not like you can blame us, we're gossipy bitches by nature, Crymini thought to herself. Charlie had expected him to shut them down, but he surprised her with what he said next. "I know you're all interested in knowing about my childa. Therefore, since I am feeling generous today, I will allow a few questions of my choosing. Ask away." It was like Alastor could read her thoughts and was hellbent on contradicting them. Perhaps he was glad to be in the spotlight. Not that she minded, though. Charlie was thirsting for answers to this puzzle. They all looked at each other, with Niffty going first, by raising her hand. "Yes, Niffty, darling?"

"Where is she now?" Niffty asked. She really wanted to know if there was a mini-Alastor walking around hell. 

"I am not sure," Alastor replied solemnly, still managing to sound cheerful. It was a weird sight. "She was given up for adoption at a very young age, and I have not known anything about her since. If she is in hell, I have yet to encounter her." She was put for adoption? Charlie thought, thinking about her question. This was going to be tough. Although... If Alastor didn't know if she was in hell, they could look around. A child of Alastor would stick out like a sore thumb. If they knew how she looked like, they might be able to help him find her.

"What was her name?" Crymini asked, for once letting go of her 'tough girl' persona and being genuinely interested. 

"Pandora Larkspur," Alastor replied, sounding fond. Charlie found it cute how he looked like that. He must really have liked his daughter, and maybe had a legitimate reason to give her up for adoption. "Pandora as in the Pandora's box that dear Vaggie mentioned earlier." Vaggie stiffened. She had almost forgotten about that. She felt a little bad now. "Larkspurs were my mother's favorite flowers." _Pandora Larkspur, what a beautiful name,_ Charlie thought, still thinking about how they would find her. _How old was she when she died? What sin did she commit? Was she even in hell, or did she go to heaven?_ Those questions wouldn't stop bothering her. The more she tried to come up with plans to find Pandora, the more holes she found in them. Perhaps that was the reason Alastor gave up on finding her, if he even tried in the first place.

Finally, Charlie asked, "What did she look like?"

Alastor closed his eyes and pondered for a minute, and Charlie was scared he would choose to skip her question. Thankfully, he didn't. "She got my mother's redhead genes, with curly bright red hair and many freckles everywhere. She also had a birthmark on her chest shaped like a heart. I did sometimes wonder how she would look like when she was older. Quite unfortunately, that isn't a possibility anymore." Charlie made sure to memorize her appearance. Curly red hair, freckles, heart-shaped birthmark. Wait, Alastor forgot to tell her about Pandora's eye color. Eh, it probably wasn't that relevant. Would she be a deer demon too? No, she was given up for adoption, which means she would look like that family. It was how hell worked, after all. If someone was adopted into a family, they would end up looking like their family members. This made finding Pandora much harder already.

Vaggie then was bold enough to asked what was on everyone's minds, "Why did you give her up?"

Alastor remained silent for a moment. "...And that's all for today, folks! I'll see you tomorrow!" And then he turned on his heels and started making his way up the stairs, leaving a bunch of astounded demons in his wake. There was a chorus of groans for a moment, sad that they couldn't ask their questions. Charlie looked at Vaggie, who also seemed confused. The other demons just looked a little lost for a moment, and then started discussing this amongst themselves, giving their theories as to why Alastor gave his daughter up. It was weird how they were bonding over a Truth or Dare answer, a surprising one at that, but Charlie couldn't complain. Everyone was busy, which was less work for her. Everyone, that is, except for Angel, who was trembling. Charlie immediately rushed to him. Was he having an allergic reaction to the sour candies? Did they have peppermint after all?

"Angel, are you ok?" she asked, worried, putting a hand on his arm in an attempt to comfort him. Angel looked at her, pale as a ghost, and said quietly:

"I think... I think I'm gonna be sick." And he immediately rushed out of the living room, bumping into a few patrons in his wake. They all stared at him, confused, before going back to talking about Alastor's daughter. Charlie watched him go, confused and worried. That wasn't normal. Vaggie put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her girlfriend. She sighed and shook her head. 

"I knew this would end in a disaster, Charlie, but at least it was an amusing disaster."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was all. 
> 
> I wrote this on my phone, since my keyboard is broken, and I expected it to be 3000 words at best. I did NOT expect this to become a 6000 word beast. I'm so sorry ;w; I just love details. I'm looking forward to posting the next chapter. Y'all are in for a surprise. Ahh, how sometimes I wish I could have my stories written for me. I hope this first chapter was okay. I feel pretty good about it. Please give me your theories about Pandora, I crave theories.
> 
> See y'all next chapter!
> 
> EDIT: Chapter had been edited on 03/12/2020 to correct a few grammar errors and add more details to the narrative. However the main premise stays the same, don't worry :P


	2. Disappearance addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the Truth or Dare game is not pretty. Charlie realizes Angel Dust is acting out of character, but no one else seems to notice.
> 
> She wants to get to the bottom of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Welcome back and HOLY SHIT. I did not expect this to get as much attention as it did. I was expecting maybe ten kudos at best, but you guys are so awesome ;w; it gives me the motivation needed to write. Speaking of which, heed the tags, especially the 'the timeline is wonky' one, because I'm still figuring it out. 
> 
> Other than that, every other detail of the story has been meticulously planned. I've been fantasizing this fanfic in my head for a long time. Also, some of you guys have been telling me your theories in the comments. Will your questions be answered in this chapter? Who knows! Only reading will you find out~
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: IMPLIED EATING DISORDER, TRANSPHOBIA, DEADNAMING.

Charlie was bouncing up and down in her seat, not being able to contain her excitement.

It was breakfast, eight in the morning. Her plate was filled with pancakes covered in syrup, along with a healthy cup of orange juice. Charlie took a bite from the pancakes that Niffty prepared, and, as always, they were divine. She did have a talent for cooking, after all. Everyone seemed to unanimously agree with that, as they were all digging in on their breakfast, except for one patron: Angel Dust. He lazily poked his food with a fork while leaning his head on his free hand. His eyes did not have their usual shine. He hadn’t even cracked any inappropriate jokes in three days, which was uncharacteristic for him. Something had happened during the game night, Charlie knew it, but she didn’t know what. No matter how much she tried to think of something, every idea she came up with had a hole in it. She shot Vaggie a concerned glance, and used her eyes to motion to Angel Dust. Vaggie also agreed that Angel hadn’t been behaving like himself, but she also had no idea what was going on.

“Guys,” Charlie started, now remembering what she had come here to discuss, clearing her throat to get the attention of the other patrons. She had to thank Angel for unconsciously reminding her. “So, I’ve been thinking, and I believe it would be a great idea for all of us to start doing group therapy.” Angel Dust finally looked up, and so did everyone else. “One-on-one therapy would be a great idea, but I know that group therapy will be even better! You can help each other solve your problems, and in doing so you’ll grow closer as friends and therapy buddies.” She and Vaggie had been discussing about this ever since the game night, and came to the conclusion that it would be the best course of action. It was much faster and less draining than regular one-on-one therapy, and that way they could keep an eye on all the patrons at the same time. The con was that putting them all together in one room sounded like it would be a nightmare and a half.

“That’s a terrible idea,” Husk, always the pessimist, replied, stabbing his last piece of pancake like it owed him money and taking a bite. Vaggie and Mimzy shot him a glare that clearly said ‘couldn’t you have been more polite about it?’ Due to the silence, it was clear he was being asked to elaborate. He looked at Charlie, a little sad that he had to be the voice of reason in that damn hotel. “Those bastards are all going to be at each other’s throats in ten minutes, I’m calling it.” He was being realistic. There was no way they would last however many minutes therapy takes and not start insulting each other. Charlie was going to respond, to defend her idea and her values, knowing she could trust her patrons, but someone else did first.

“Ten minutes? Who are you taking me for?!” Crymini asked, sounding very offended. “I can do it in five!” Husk stared at her for a minute, and then turned back to Charlie.

“Case in point.”

Charlie sighed. “Look, I know it won’t be easy. I don’t expect it to be. But we have to try, or we’ll become accustomed to not bettering ourselves. The group therapy plan I propose is simple: on Tuesdays and Thursdays we will all take sixty minutes of our time to dedicate to the group therapy. We can talk about our feelings and problems, and even propose solutions to them. It’ll be a healing experience for all of us, even Vaggie and I. What do you say?” Charlie was met with silence. Vaggie stared at them with narrowed eyes before her gaze landed on Angel, who had frozen completely, all of his fur standing up on his body as shivers ran down his spine. Vaggie wondered why for a moment, before she heard it herself: static.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, my dear!” a certain demon said cheerfully. Charlie turned her head to face the entrance of the kitchen to find Alastor standing there for a moment (probably for effect) before joining them for breakfast. Alastor eyed the table for a spot for him to sit, and found one near Angel Dust. He normally would not sit there, but it was the only seat left. One of the consequences of being late, of course. Not that he wouldn’t do it often. As the sponsor of the hotel, he had many responsibilities that required him to go eat breakfast a little later. Niffty got up her seat to fix him a plate of pancakes and some wine. Nobody understood why he drank wine for breakfast, but to each their own, they thought. It was better not to question his choices.

“You really think so, Al?” Charlie asked, surprised. She didn’t expect Alastor of all people to agree with her.

“Of course! A group activity involving feelings and emotions is the perfect breeding ground for chaos, and wherever there is chaos, there is entertainment!” he responded with a wide grin. Charlie frowned. She didn’t know why she still tried to have a normal conversation with Alastor. Perhaps it was her hope that someday he would act like a regular demon for one moment. Maybe that was just wishful thinking, though. Almost as soon as he said that, however, Angel Dust immediately got up from his seat, looking down at his breakfast. He still looked depressed, his colors faded, but now he also looked very anxious. Vaggie noticed how, for the past few days, he always avoided Alastor, which was highly unusual, as he flirted with every man that was within a mile radius from him. He had even stopped flirting with Husk! It was noticeable for her, because she knew that was one of his favorite activities in the hotel. Something was clearly wrong, but what? What happened during the game night that turned him upside down?

“I have to go to work,” Angel announced, immediately making his way to the door, eyes locked on the ground. Vaggie and Charlie both noticed he was one step away from running, his stride quick and rushed, almost like a prey trying to run from a predator in the most discreet way possible. They knew for a fact he wasn’t worried about being late for work, because he never cared about that in the first place, always willing to test the boundaries of Valentino’s patience, even if it meant getting punished for it. Charlie’s eyes then landed on his plate of pancakes, which had remained untouched save for being poked by a fork a great deal. She noticed how he had looked at the plate with dread, almost as if the pancakes were poisoned. Was he afraid that they had peppermint in them? Why didn’t he just ask Niffty? Besides, Charlie had explicitly asked her to not make peppermint dishes, and she was very understanding. 

“Angel, wait! You didn’t even eat your breakfast!” she called out, but it went unanswered, as Angel had already been out the door. When the sound of a door closing was heard, Charlie let out a sigh of frustration. She really wanted to help Angel, but she had no idea how to do it, especially if he didn’t want to be helped. He had been acting so odd lately. He would really benefit from group therapy. This just motivated her even more, letting her know that there were patrons who were hiding things from her. Perhaps they could all let their problems out during the therapy. She was determined to do it. She _was_ going to do it. For Angel Dust.

“You shouldn’t worry about it, dear,” Mimzy said, after eating the last bite of her breakfast pancakes, her cup of orange juice still half-full. “Angel always does this, remember? He eats just a tiny part of his breakfast and leaves the rest behind. Perhaps it’s just what porn stars need to do to stay in the industry? That’s usually how it works in modeling.” Charlie thought about it for a minute. That made sense. Angel was a famous porn star who was known for his slim figure. If he were to break his diet then he would be in a world of trouble with his boss. Still, that wasn’t healthy. At all. In fact, it was pretty messed up. Surely he could afford to eat a few more calories without gaining weight? She would have to remember to give him a talk about that. Maybe she could even talk to Valentino. Surely he would understand, right?

“Speaking of our dear arachnid fellow, he does seem to be avoiding us,” Alastor pointed out matter-of-factly, acting as if he was the first one to find that out. Charlie’s eyes widened, and Vaggie’s narrowed. So he _did_ notice. She was surprised, since he is usually so self-centered that he wouldn’t notice someone is avoiding him even if they were the two demons left in hell.

“You,” Baxter replied curtly. _So he noticed as well_ , Charlie told herself. She knew it was much too obvious for them to not notice. Vaggie, meanwhile, mentally praised Baxter for saying what she was about to say, except he went straight to the point instead of being sarcastic like she would have been. “He’s avoiding you. He is just being less flirtatious and irritating towards us, which is still queer.” And, somehow, with the wrong word usage, he ruined it. The others seemed to have heard it as well, because they winced very hard.

“Stop saying that, for fuck’s sake!” Crymini yelled at him, slamming her glass of grape juice down and sending it flying everywhere. Niffty quickly wiped the tablecloth with a napkin until it was dry, and then went back to sit down on her own chair like nothing had happened.

Alastor took that in, and nodded. “Ah, that seems about right.” He didn’t even seem fazed. Charlie didn’t even know why she expected him to be.

“Someone should talk to him,” Charlie suggested, already knowing she would end up being the one to do it. She wanted to help him, to listen to his problems and make him feel happy again. Regular Angel was a bit annoying, she admitted, but that was part of his charm. Without that, he was just an empty shell of sadness, and it was killing her to see him like this every day, to see him worsen by the hour, see him lose his bright colors. She didn’t even know he was capable of feeling depressed, what with his constant drug-induced euphoria and enthusiastic personality, although, now that she thought about it, that was a pretty messed up thing to think. Anyone had the ability to become depressed, even enthusiastic and energetic demons like Angel Dust. Seeing him so depressed was almost reality-shattering. The only time she’s seen him break character was at the beginning of the year, when she had pitched the idea of the Happy Hotel to a live audience and he ruined it. She remembered he was joking about food, but stopped when he saw how sad she was. It proved he did have a heart, and she was going to do everything in her power to bring it back.

“Why should we give a fuck?” Husk asked, pulling a bottle of booze from under the table (where he hid that, she had no idea). “Half this hotel is emotionally constipated and the other half has emotional diarrhea. We’re all fucked up and no one cares.” _What?_ Charlie thought, trying to process what he had just said, making a face of disgust at the word usage.

“We’re eating here!” Vaggie said, making a face of disgust and pointing to her half-eaten pancakes. “Jesus…”

“But I care!” Charlie protested, ignoring her girlfriend.

“Because you’re the half that’s liquid-shitting emotional projection for everyone’s imaginary bowel problems in this damn hotel. But knock yourself out trying to solve that guy’s emotional turmoil. See if I care,” Husk explained, rolling his eyes and taking a large gulp from his bottle of cheap beer. Charlie was still trying to understand what he just said. Did he just say that she was projecting her feelings onto the patrons of the hotel? Is that how she came across? Charlie looked down at her own plate of pancakes. Her father’s words echoed in her head, ‘ _you’re projecting your problems onto innocent bystanders again, dear, please stop trying to bother them_ ’. He always said that whenever she told him that she thought a demon had a problem, and wanted to help cheer them up. Perhaps she _was_ projecting… But still! She needed to do something, anything, to help Angel. He was her friend, no matter how annoying he was sometimes.

“Ok, that’s it!” Vaggie suddenly yelled, pushing her plate away. She wanted to grab Husk’s beer bottle and smash it on his head. “I’ve officially lost my appetite,” she said with disgust.

Husk pointed to her while looking at Charlie. “See? Your constant talk about therapy and feelings is killing everyone here inside.”

“I officially give up,” Vaggie murmured, nursing a growing headache.

**_. . ._ **

At the end of breakfast, Charlie excused herself, saying she was going to prepare for the upcoming group therapy sessions, which elicited a bunch of groans from the other patrons (namely Crymini).

Charlie spent a lot of time doing research on different types of therapy, while Vaggie planned the sessions so that they would best fit everyone’s schedules. She didn’t want them to miss something important for that, and end up taking it out on the others at group therapy. They spent the whole afternoon in the library, which wasn’t a problem for them at all, because it had the two things they loved most: books _and_ peace and quiet. They had even refused to attend lunch, choosing to eat at the library instead. Charlie had been so enthralled by the various books about psychology, written by various human authors, that she didn’t even notice the clock, but Vaggie did, after completing her therapy schedule program. “Wow, it’s getting late!” she realized, hoping to catch her girlfriend’s attention, but she didn’t. Charlie didn’t even respond. Vaggie sighed and walked up to her, only to see how deep she was in her research. There were papers from her small notebook scattered all around her with various notes written haphazardly. Some even had doodles, in typical Charlie fashion. Vaggie smiled, and lightly nudged her girlfriend. “Charlie, it’s already late.”

“W-What? What time is it?” Charlie asked, rubbing her burning eyes and trying to blink her tiredness away. She had been reading books non-stop for the past twelve hours, completely dead to the world around her, so Vaggie wasn’t surprised that she would end up like this. What she _was_ surprised about was the fact that Charlie managed to read that many books and understand them. She had around seven thick books scattered around the table, and five times as many notes. Vaggie admired her determination. In fact, she also thought it was kind of adorable. Charlie rubbed her eyes again, clearly tired from having read so many books and written so many notes.

“It’s eight, Charlie,” she said, looking at the clock again to confirm. “Come on, dinner must be done already.” Charlie nodded, standing up from her chair and stretching. Vaggie herself realized how tired and stiff she was from sitting in the same type of chair. It was then that she remembered the plates from their lunch, as they didn’t eat downstairs and chose to stay upstairs instead. Niffty hadn’t come get the plates because they asked to not be disturbed.. Grabbing her plate and her girlfriend’s, Vaggie led Charlie outside with one hand, the other holding the plates. “So, did you get any progress on those books?” Charlie immediately lightened up and started explaining to her about the various psychology books she read, and all the different methods they talked about. Vaggie didn’t really care for that, but hearing her girlfriend being so passionate about something made her heart flutter. The way Charlie moved her hands whenever she was explaining something, and the twinkle in her eyes. It was pure poetry.

They finally reached the kitchen, where dinner was indeed being served by Niffty, and everyone was already sitting down with the exception of two demons. Vaggie walked to the sink to place their dirty plates, while Charlie took a seat. “Where are Angel and Al?” she questioned, her voice a little tired.

“Mr. Alastor said he’s going to eat in his own room, alone!” Niffty explained cheerfully. “He was even singing when I got there, it was very nice!” _Alastor was singing? Now I’d love to see that,_ Vaggie thought. What reason would he have to eat alone in his room, though? She and Charlie ate lunch at the library because they were busy with their research and schedule management. Once again, Alastor’s pastimes were a mystery to anyone but himself. Vaggie wished she was as crazy as him sometimes, just to see what it felt like to have a giant ego and no regard for other people. Also, she didn’t even know he could sing. How would his voice sound on the radio? Did it sound like an actual radio, or not? Could he even turn his radio voice off, or was it permanent? Vaggie shook her head. Why was she even thinking about that jackass?

“And Angel Dust?” Charlie asked.

“I didn’t see anyone at the front desk,” Husk responded, drinking directly from his bottle of beer, not bothering with a glass. “But I may have also passed out, so what do I know?” _Of course,_ thought Vaggie, rolling her eyes.

“Who would have guessed that putting an alcoholic to manage a front desk would go wrong?” Crymini replied sarcastically. Husk gave her the middle finger.

“So nobody’s seen Angel?” Charlie inquired, concerned, while the others shook their heads. They hadn’t. Vaggie sat down next to her girlfriend, holding her hand as she noticed her stress. She knew it wouldn’t help calm her down at all, but it was the only thing she felt she could do for her, because she didn’t know what to say, exactly. She couldn’t promise that Angel would come back, because she didn’t know if he would. Truth be told, she was worried too. Angel was a little annoying sometimes but he was still under their protection. Charlie felt like she had lost all appetite as multiple scenarios played in her head. What if he had been kidnapped? What if he got lost? What if he got into a bar fight or a turf war? What if… What if he decided he didn’t want to live anymore and… God, she couldn’t even complete that thought. It was horrible. She knew she shouldn’t have let him leave the hotel, but she just let him go, and now this was her fault. She just wished Angel was well.

“Charlie?” Vaggie asked, noticing her girlfriend was starting to sweat bullets, coupled with the fact that she hadn’t even touched her meal yet, which was one of her favorites: mashed potatoes with parmesan chicken.

“Honey, don’t worry about it.” Mimzy tried to comfort her, putting her fork down for a minute. “Remember that this is Angel Dust we’re talking about? He’s a notorious troublemaker. This isn’t the first time he’s left the house for more than half a day.” Charlie knew that, but what they hadn’t realized is that there was something seriously wrong with Angel before he left. He was depressed and skittish. This is almost never a good combination. And he left without eating his breakfast, too. He was probably starving by now! “I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s bound to show up eventually.” Charlie nodded, although she wasn’t fully convinced. She turned out the conversation around her as she quietly ate her dinner, which, for the first time in forever, didn’t taste like anything to her. Vaggie wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what, so she remained quiet, knowing she would probably make things worse. She hoped Angel would come back to the hotel in one piece, so that she could tear him apart herself for pulling this stunt.

With dinner over in thirty minutes, Charlie immediately ran to the front door, opening it to be greeted with a nearly empty street, only a few demons walking around, none of them being Angel. Sighing, she closed the door and began pacing around. She couldn’t stop worrying. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her something terrible was about to happen. She was well-acquainted with her anxiety, unfortunately, due to unfortunate events in the past, but that did not matter right now. The feeling grew stronger by the minute, and it wasn’t helping that they were past the thirty minute mark. It was now nine PM, and there was no signal of Angel Dust anywhere. Charlie couldn’t handle it anymore. She had to do something, maybe get him herself. Quite unfortunately, she couldn’t leave the hotel and let Vaggie do all the work of watching over the patrons, it wouldn’t be fair to her… But she knew someone who could.

Marching to the sixth floor of the hotel, Charlie walked with purpose, already knowing where she was headed. The pit of anxiety in her stomach did not lessen at all, however. Now she had a new form of anxiety to worry about. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely realized she had already reached her destination. Charlie stopped in front of the room 666 (because _of course_ it had to be that number). She took a deep breath. She was going to ask Alastor to hunt Angel down. He could do it, right? It would be like child’s play to him. Charlie was going to knock on the door before she heard a sound coming from inside… A song. She remembered Niffty saying that Alastor had been singing. Charlie suddenly felt terrible for almost interrupting, but it was urgent. She leaned in closer, to see if Alastor was almost done singing. And… Well, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to see what he was singing. She really shouldn’t spy…

But she was going to anyway. She could feel terrible about it later.

The song was very audible if one leaned in close enough to the door. Charlie was basically pressing her ear against the door. “ _And if I never hear your voice, my Turtledove, my dear…_ ” Alastor sang to himself, unaware that she was listening. Charlie was thoroughly surprised, because Alastor’s voice was amazing, even with the radio filter. He had a radio beside him that provided background music, which was an extra nice touch. “... _I still have reason to rejoice. The way ahead is clear! Pandora…_ ” Charlie closed her eyes, enjoying Alastor’s voice. It was clear now that he was singing it for his daughter, even if she wasn’t there. She felt sad for him, and remembered her mission to find Pandora. Perhaps they could do a trade: if Alastor helped her find Angel Dust, she could help him find Pandora. Charlie hoped he would accept. He was nearing the end of the song, she could feel it. “ _Wake up, Pandora! Another bright red day… We learn, Pandora, to say…_ ”

And then the door opened.

Charlie, who had been leaning against it, fell flat on her face on the carpeted floor of Alastor’s hotel room. “ _Goodbye..._ ” And that was the end of the song Alastor’s smile widened with pure joy as Charlie’s face turned bright red upon being caught. She didn't even care that her face was hurting badly, and there was a bruise forming. “What do we have here?” Charlie started tripping over her own words, trying to come up with an excuse as to why she was spying on him. Alastor, still not saying anything, extended his hand, and she hesitantly accepted it. Charlie was going to explain, or try to explain, why she was eavesdropping, when Alastor interrupted. “Don’t worry about excuses, my dear. Tell me, what are you here for? I’m assuming there’s more to your visit than secretly listening to me sing!” Charlie didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not that he didn’t want her poor excuses.

“Um, yeah… Angel hasn’t returned yet,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I did notice the hotel’s been quieter than usual.”

Charlie laughed, not having expected that answer. “Yeah, I noticed that too…” Her face became more serious, and so did her voice tone. “Alastor, I was wondering if we could make a deal…” She immediately realized what she said, and tried to correct herself. “But not an official one, with the handshake and weird green smoke stuff! Just a friendly pact.” She smiled again. Alastor seemed interested. He made a ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Charlie felt herself regain her hope. “You help me get Angel back, and I’ll help you find your daughter.” She knew she was being bold by saying something like that, but she had no choice. Angel was probably in danger, and Alastor was her best bet in getting him back from wherever he was right now. She just hoped he would accept, and that, if he did, she’d be able to hold her part of the bargain. It would be very hard to find Pandora, because hell was one big place.

“What makes you think she is in hell?” Alastor asked, curious.

“Oh, I…” She started, but fell silent, realization setting in. God, how could she be so stupid? She didn't know if Pandora is in hell or heaven, and she was dumb for assuming. Did she also offend Alastor by implying his daughter was in hell? Charlie hoped not. She thought for a moment: ‘what do I do?’, and told Alastor the only thing she could think of. “I mean, we could find out, right?” she asked, feeling optimistic. She tried to see the good side of things. “I’m sure that, if she _is_ in hell, we might be able to find her if we do it together. And if she’s not in hell, we’ll know.” Alastor seemed to be deep in thought. “Please, Al, I need to find Angel, I know he’s in danger. I can feel it.” Not only did she have her instincts telling her that, but also the logical facts, like the state he was in this morning. And then, remembering that morning, is when she realized something. Alastor also seemed to have realized the same thing as her.

“I thought Angel Dust was avoiding me,” he pointed out. Charlie was becoming more and more convinced that he could read minds by the minute.

“Just tell him I asked you to find him, I’m sure he’ll understand,” Charlie said, not actually being a hundred-percent sure he would understand. She was just hoping he would. “I’ll send you a limousine when you find him, just give me a call—” she cut herself, slapping her forehead for her own stupidity. “I forgot you don’t have a phone.”

“I don’t need one!” Alastor claimed confidently, making her look up. “See this cane?” He brandished his red cane with a microphone attached to it, the one he could summon at will. Charlie always wondered why he carried that thing around, although she could understand being attached to something. Perhaps it also had some hidden powers? Alastor explained, “It is capable of connecting to any frequency at will, even phone frequencies, allowing me to call you without a phone. It is also capable of tracking down certain phones if I so wish to. It is how we’re going to find our dear effeminate fellow.” Charlie was right, it _did_ have some hidden powers. She was so caught up in the intricacies of the microphone-cane that she almost didn’t realize what Alastor had said. She gasped in surprise, putting her hands on her mouth. She didn’t expect to be able to convince him at all.

“Does that mean…?” she asked, not daring finish the sentence. She didn’t want to be let down, especially since the universe had a pretty cruel way to play with her whenever she got her hopes up. However, the universe hadn’t been playing a prank on her this time. Alastor nodded, his smile wide and slightly menacing (as it had always been).

“It’s a deal.”

**_. . ._ **

After Charlie left, almost skipping away with joy, Alastor was left to his devices.

He thought about it for a moment. He knew Charlie wouldn't be able to find Pandora, because Alastor himself hadn’t been able to find her, but letting her believe that she would be able to help was the best option. He wouldn't say that to everyone, but he had grown rather fond of her. Her cheerful and optimistic attitude was a big contrast in comparison to the rest of the hotel. It was incredibly entertaining. He had never seen has as worried as now, however. Alastor did wonder why Angel Dust had been avoiding him. At first, it was a joyful occasion for him (and probably everyone in the hotel). The incessant flirting did get on his nerves, despite how much it amused him sometimes. However, as much as he liked being feared (the feeling was amazing), it did get boring sometimes. He almost hated to admit he had missed the entertainment that came with threatening Angel Dust whenever he attempted to flirt with him. Alastor had also seen the way he looked, dull and pale and unkempt, and had to admit it was uncharacteristic for the other to look like that, especially when he put so much effort on his appearance every day. 

Alastor accepted the proposal simply because he wanted to see what would happen when Angel saw _he_ was the one who was going to chaperone him back to the hotel. He imagined the other’s face would be priceless.

Deciding not to waste any more time thinking about mildly amusing hypotheticals, he left his room, cane in hand, already knowing what he needed to do. He passed by Husk, who was downing a bottle of beer like it was water. Their eyes met for a moment, before Husk went back to drinking his alcohol and leaning back against the stool of the reception desk in a laid-back manner. No words needed to be exchanged between them, because Husk had already made it clear by his body language: 'I don't care.' Alastor was able to read him like an open book. He was capable of reading anyone, one of the many perks of being a serial killer whose victims willingly went to him. Opening the front door of the hotel, he wasn't surprised to see the street was nearly empty, with only a few demons walking here or there, and he knew most of them were most likely up to something Charlie wouldn't be proud of. As soon as their eyes landed on him, however, they scattered like cockroaches in the light, afraid of being the next victim of the Radio Demon's rage. His grin widened. 

It never got old.

Remembering the duty at hand, Alastor waved his cane in the air, hoping the microphone would pick out his chosen frequencies. The first place he'd have to test the waves of would be the Lust Circle, where Angel would most likely be. He was really not looking forward to that, though. Bracing himself, he picked the frequencies of a random phone, hoping it would be Angel Dust's, so that he could get this over with, but it wasn't his. Luckily for him, the demon on the phone was having a normal conversation (well, as normal as it gets in hell). Still, he knew he would have to listen to every phone conversation in the Lust Circle, hoping to hear Angel's voice and drag him back to the hotel, even if he protested. It would definitely take some time, Alastor assumed, and he was right. Even at his best speed, the Lust Circle was a huge place, with lots of residents. In the end, instead of simply staying put in front of the hotel, Alastor decided to walk around, hoping to pick more frequencies in a better quality. He wasn't worried about people questioning what he was doing, because they all ran away as soon as he was within a mile radius. It was borderline hysterical, really. It did make him feel slightly better about listening to the gross conversations he was picking up from the Lust Circle. In the end, Angel wasn't even there. What a traumatic experience wasted on such a futile task.

At least Alastor knew he wasn't in the Lust Circle. The next option was the Wrath Circle. As far as he knew, Angel had a friend from there, Cherri Bomb. It was the most logical next step. He remembered the first time he watched Charlie on the news, pitching her idea for the Happy (now Hazbin) Hotel. He recalled stifling a hysterical laugh upon seeing Angel at the Wrath Circle, fighting a snake demon called Sir Pentious (what a name) alongside his friend, Cherri, like an unstoppable duo. If she lived in that circle, it meant he was probably there was well. Perhaps he was visiting and lost track of time? It wouldn't be the first time he’s pulled something similar. Angel Dust really did not have a good sense of time. Raising his cane in the air, Alastor picked the frequency of a phone in the circuit, the connection being perfect and voices crystal clear. They were really close to the Wrath Circuit, so that was not a surprise. At first, he only heard a rough, deep voice on the other end, speaking in a thick Italian accent. Alastor almost switched to another frequency, convinced it wasn’t the phone he was looking for, until, at the last second, he heard what he was looking for: Angel Dust's voice. This was his phone, there was no doubt now.

He wasn’t alone, however.

Alastor could tell there was an argument going on between him and the owner of the thick Italian accent. _This ought to be interesting,_ he thought, his smile widening. He still needed to to know where exactly in the Wrath Circle he was, though. Perhaps this would keep him company while he made his way there. He tapped on the microphone atop his cane twice, and a holographic map appeared. He never really used this feature that much, because it reminded him too much of a GPS, which was technology (something he disliked), but he now had to, whether he wanted to or not. According to the map, Angel was at the edge of the Wrath Circle. How he got there, Alastor had no idea. He knew very well that at the location he was in there was a hitman business. Was Angel in trouble? How did he even get into this situation in the first place? Shaking his head, Alastor began his walk towards the tiny black dot on the map, his microphone still on, and replaying the whole conversation to him.

He hoped it would be a source of great amusement.

**_. . ._ **

Angel crossed his arms, refusing to stare at anyone in the eye.

He remembered that office. The colors of the walls were dull and long due for a repaint. The chair he was sitting on wasn’t comfortable at all, and he was afraid it would give up under him at any minute due to how old it was. Angel hugged his sides with his lower pair of arms. He hated this. He hated all of this. Across from him there was a table, his father’s work table. On the left side of the table, on another one of those uncomfortable chairs, sat his older brother, Arackniss, and standing on the left was his identical twin, Molly. Their behaviors were very different. Arackniss was stoic and cold, arms crossed as he stared directly at his younger sibling. Molly, on the other hand, seemed just as uncomfortable with this as Angel, and had her arms behind her back, and avoided his eyes. In front of Angel, on the desk belonging to his father, was his phone. Arackniss had taken it from him to prevent him from calling anyone, which worked. Angel didn’t understand why he was here.

Finally, after moments of uncomfortable silence, the door behind him opened. Angel Dust didn’t turn around, because he didn’t have to. He already knew who had entered simply by his siblings’ reactions and the threatening aura surrounding the room. Henroin, his father, walked around the room and sat behind the desk, on the biggest chair. Angel noticed how even Arackniss looked down a bit, though he didn’t know if it was out of respect or fear. All he wanted to do was grab his phone and get out of there. He looked at Molly, and their special connection activated. She could immediately read his expression, and mentally told him, “ _Don’t try to run, Angel, or you’ll make things worse._ ” He was very glad they were able to communicate telepathically like that, even though they didn’t know if it was because they were twins or due to their close bond. They could even communicate thousands of miles away. It was how they kept in touch. Molly had always been the voice of reason between the two of them. He decided to follow her advice, and instead decided it was time to break this awkward silence between them.

“Is there a reason I was kidnapped and had my phone taken away from me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Arackniss prevented him from getting his phone every time he tried to, so he just gave up. He wanted to know what reason his father would possibly have to send one of the many Ragno employees to pick him up at gunpoint while he was making his way to Cherri Bomb’s house after aimlessly walking around the Lust Circle for hours after his work was done. He remembered being afraid that his father had finally decided to erase his ‘mistake’ right there and then, but got a little less scared when the hitman told him to enter the black van. But even then it seemed scary, being kidnapped and taken to Satan knows where. Angel had only been kidnapped once since he arrived in hell, and it did leave a mark. Why was he even here anyway? His father hated him, he knew that much, and Angel hated him too.

“Eight months, thirteen days, and five hours,” Henroin replied, and Angel immediately understood where he was going with this, and he was dreading every minute of it. “This is the last time I heard from you.” This didn’t make sense to Angel. Why would his father care about the last time they talked? He didn’t even consider him his son!

He snickered sarcastically. Oh, this would be great. “And you care because…?”

Arackniss and Molly exchange glances. They knew they were witnessing the beginning of the end. Angel and Henroin had never seen eye-to-eye, and kidnapping him might just have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. “I’ve been patient, child, and I tried to give you space to solve your… Inner conflicts, but it’s clear you’re testing my patience here, Madalena.” Angel Dust immediately flinched upon being deadnamed. He knew it was supposed to come up eventually, just not now. Years and years of memories of self-loathing all came back in waves, like a tsunami of trauma. Why was this happening to him? Why couldn’t he have a family who understood? Molly was the only person who accepted him for who he was, even if she didn’t see him often. He wished his father had just officially disowned him already, but even that was too hard for him, apparently.

Giving his father the most venomous look he could muster, Angel spat out, “Madalena is dead. I’m not her, nor have I ever been.” Henroin wasn’t fazed by his voice tone at all. Molly had half-expected him to start screaming at her brother, but he was surprisingly calm throughout all this. She wasn’t praising whatever he was doing, however, she was just surprised. It was clear that Angel Dust wanted to leave, and, honestly, so did she. Molly remembered that, when they were alive, he would scratch his skin until it was red, not comfortable in his own body. It was terrible to see him like this again.

“Stop playing games, _girl_ ,” he scolded her, putting emphasis on ‘girl’, as if speaking to a child. “You are clearly mentally ill, can’t you see?” Angel resisted the urge to lunge at his father and punch him in the face. He knew he was outnumbered, and would probably die, but he felt like it would be worth it. Then he remembered his poor pet pig, Fat Nuggets, that was still in the studio, and how he would feel without him, and he decided that living was the better option. He wouldn’t want his poor pig to become an orphan. “I still don’t understand how you maintain this delusion of yours.” Henroin’s comments kept pushing him to the edge. Angel suppressed the need to scratch his arms raw, like he used to do when he was alive. He hated himself so much. Just when he thought he was getting better, the universe decided to throw something in his face to take him down.

“Get to the point,” Angel said.

“If you insist,” Henroin replied, leaning back against his chair. It was supposed to be less intimidating, but Angel Dust was still on guard nonetheless. “I saw you on the TV. I was watching the news about that hotel the princess opened when I saw your face on the screen.” Angel looked down. He had never expected his father to have watched the news, especially since he was never fond of televisions, instead choosing to read the newspaper like during ‘the good old days’. “I saw you fighting with that friend of yours, who is a terrible influence on you, by the way. Honestly, Madalena, how do you think this is appropriate?” Henroin kept deadnaming Angel, making him hate both himself and his father more every second. “We Ragnos are a proper family. We do not involve ourselves in petty things like… _Turf wars_.” Arackniss tapped on his father’s desk, asking permission to talk. “Go on.”

“Lena, we are worried you’re getting into trouble, you should start living under our roof again—” he started, but was interrupted.

“Stop addressing me as a girl!” Angel yelled, almost pulling on his hair. “I am not a girl. I’ve never been a girl. I never _will_ be a girl!”

Henroin did not even blink. “And yet, despite all that, you still go out of your way to dress as feminine as possible. Why is that?” Angel felt his brain short-circuiting. He didn’t have a good answer for that. He never had trouble with his clothes, because men could wear whatever they wanted. Was that not the right move? Should he have to only wear men’s clothes? He loved his clothes as they were right now! He loved wearing pink, and wearing dresses, and other such things. Suddenly they all felt wrong, it felt wrong to like his favorite color, the color of the spots in his fur. Angel could feel an impending identity crisis, but he wasn’t going to freak out in front of his father. Henroin was a smart man. He knew how to read bodily cues and use them against someone. Angel had learned how to do the same, but he would never use it against his own family. Henroin did not have such morals.

“What do you want from me?” Angel finally asked, suppressing a mental breakdown. He would not break down in front of _them_ of all people.

Molly tapped on her father’s desk. He allowed her to talk. She stepped forward, coming closer to Angel. If it were anyone else, he would’ve been intimidated or annoyed, but he knew Molly would never hurt him purposefully. “We want you back, Angel,” she said. He thanked her mentally for being the only one to not deadname him. She smiled at that. “I want us all to be a family again.” The word ‘family’ made him almost jump in his seat. Angel felt his heart skip a beat as he remembered what happened three days ago. He had been having an identity crisis ever since, but he figured now was the time to confront his father and get the truth out, even if it hurt him.

“Molly,” he said, his words sounding heavy. He didn’t even know how to begin, and started laughing out of nervousness. “Fuck. Molly, we were never a family.” He immediately regretted saying that, because of how ambiguous it sounded. He could see Molly’s surprise, and he knew that he had hit her right in the heart. Angel had never felt so guilty before. What if he was wrong? He couldn’t imagine hurting his sister for nothing, but he had to know. He saw how she wanted to talk to him, but didn’t know what to say. “ _I didn’t mean it like that,_ ” Angel told her telepathically, trying to fix his slip-up. “ _I promise. You know I would never say something like that if I didn’t have a good reason to._ ”

“ _Anthony, what are you talking about?_ ” she asked him back. To Arackniss and Henroin, it just looked like they were having a staring contest. It was only natural, for they did not know about their special power.

Angel gave Henroin a chilling glare, the glare of someone who had given up on life. “He knows what I mean.”

Henroin narrowed all of his eight eyes. “What are you insinuating?”

Angel turned to Molly. “Do you remember we were supposed to be _identical_ twins?” Molly nodded, wondering where he was going with this. She did have a vague idea, though. Angel then faced his ‘father’. “If we are identical, then why are we so different? Why was my hair more curly than hers? Why did I have more freckles than her? Why did I turn out to be a man and she didn’t?” Molly started putting two and two together now. It was so obvious in hindsight! Angel even had birthmarks, and she didn’t. She remembered asking her mom about it, and she always said God chose to give Angel birthmarks to set them apart, because they looked so alike. She remembered praying to God to give her birthmarks because she thought they were cool. She remembered wanting one in the shape of a flower. She never got her wish, but she also never questioned why Angel had birthmarks and she didn’t if they were supposed to be identical. She gave Angel a haunted look, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. He gave her the same look, paired with a look of pity. She felt ill.

“Dad, please tell me this isn’t true,” Molly begged him. This couldn’t be happening.

“Unfortunately, it is, Molly.” Angel looked at his lap for a moment before facing his sister… Well, his _adoptive_ sister. “Dear old dad played us like a fiddle. He doesn’t even need to say anything, because I already know the truth.”

Henroin started getting frustrated as the evidence piled up against him. His patience had wilted into nothing, and he finally exploded and said, banging his hand on the table, “Fine. You want to hear it come from my mouth? You _are_ adopted. Are you satisfied?”

Molly was shocked, hoping it wasn’t true, but Angel had expected it, although hearing it come from his adoptive father’s mouth shook him to the core. He had been lied to his whole life, and a good part of his afterlife. He died believing he was his father’s child, and that he had disappointed him. It was hard to think of Henroin as _not_ his father, and it was a foreign concept, but he could try. He had been such a terrible father that it was somewhat of a relief that they weren’t related. He turned to Arackniss, who had been far too quiet. He could read his brother like an open book, and realized he was uncomfortable. He was hiding something, Angel could feel it, and he had the feeling that he knew what it was. “You knew it too, didn’t you, Ari?” he asked his adoptive brother. Arackniss didn’t say anything, he just nodded quietly.

“What the hell! How could you guys keep this a secret from me? From _us_?” Molly yelled, pointing to herself and her twin brother, who turned out to be her adoptive brother instead, feeling betrayed. Angel could relate, although not in the same way. Molly was biologically related to them, so she felt a different type of betrayal. Angel, though, was the one suffering the most from the consequences of this debate. He was the odd one out, and it hurt.

“It’s what your mother wanted,” Henroin explained, calming down once again and putting on a poker face. “She wanted you to feel like a true Ragno, and she knew the truth would destroy you. I was simply honoring her wishes.” Angel Dust thought about his mother. She was the sweetest, prettiest, and most thoughtful person he knew in life. She definitely belonged in heaven, where she definitely was (that had been established a long time ago), while the rest of them were rotting in hell and arguing about him being adopted. He couldn’t get mad at her. That woman was a saint. She would let him and his sister have cookies in the middle of the night and would read them bedtime stories. She called him beautiful every day and taught him Italian, which he could speak fluently. Having her die when he was nine was devastating. Even on her dying days, she saw Angel as her flesh and blood, despite it being a lie. But did Henroin feel the same?

“Did you ever see me as your own son?” Angel asked. Henroin remained silent. “That’s all I need to know.” He stood up, ready to leave the building. He didn’t even care that he was leaving his phone behind. He could buy a new one. Henroin and Arackniss exchange glances, and his brother goes to stop him. However, they all froze when they heard a rhythmical knock on the door. Angel eyed Arackniss, who also seemed surprised. Henroin had specifically told all his employees to not disturb them, even if it was an emergency. So who could it be? Angel grabbed the doorknob, his grip on it tightening for a moment, before opening the door and finding himself face-to-face with Alastor.

“Ah, my effeminate fellow!” Alastor greeted him cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just walked in a mafia boss’s office like it was a coffee shop. “Our dear Charlie is awfully worried about you. There is already a limousine waiting for us, come on now.” He turns to Henroin, who seemed like he wanted to do something, but remained quiet the entire time (trying to confront an overlord never went well for regular demons). He had heard that the Radio Demon was sponsoring the hotel, but he hadn’t expected him to hunt Angel down himself. “You must be the boss of this business. You see, I must take Angel back now, but it seems like you’ve made a lot of damage here. And, well… Not a single patron of the hotel shall be harmed if I can say something about it,” he said, looking dangerously close to mauling Henroin, who had a hidden gun filled with holy bullets ready in case of the worst case scenario, and now seemed the best time to use it. Radio static filled the room, making Molly cover her ears due to how loud it was. Arackniss didn’t move, but he also looked really uncomfortable. Angel stared at this disaster of a family meeting wondering what sequence of events would’ve led to this.

Just as Henroin was about to draw the gun to shoot, ending this for good, he noticed Alastor pulling something from his coat and pointing it at him faster than he could react. It was a _gun_. Not just a regular gun, but a _holy gun_. It had the Ragno family seal on it, which meant he had stolen it from one of their employees. He would have to beat the shit out of whoever allowed their gun to be taken from them. “Tsk, tsk.” Alastor shook his head, an amused grin plastered on his face. The static lessened a bit, allowing Molly to take her hands off her ears (or where they should be) and Arackniss to feel less bothered. Angel stared at Alastor with wide eyes, wondering if he was really going to shoot his adoptive father. “How funny. I thought hitmen were taught to always assume their enemy is armed in some shape or form. Why did you hesitate, my good fellow?” Alastor taunted, pushing the weapon closer to his head, but not directly pressed against it.

“Fuck you,” Henroin responded, not daring to draw his own gun now that one was pointed at his head.

“Are you sure you want those to be your last words? How crass,” Alastor said, one finger going towards the trigger. “I would rip you to pieces myself, as it is way more fun, but unfortunately I am on a time limit here, so this will have to do.” He was ready to pull the trigger. Angel had expected Arackniss to draw his own gun by now, but realized he didn’t have one, and neither did Molly. They hadn’t expected someone to invade a Ragno building and live to tell the story, much less threaten their boss and father. Alastor almost pulled the trigger, but seeing some movement from his peripheral vision made him stop in his tracks.

Surprisingly, Angel jumped in between them, and Alastor took a step back.

“You can’t kill him!” he begged, trying to convince Alastor to let it go. In any other scenario, Angel would have been glad to let him maul Henroin without hesitation, but Molly was in the room, and she depended on him for protection. Besides, he didn’t want her to witness the carnage, despite probably having seen worse in her days in the business as the daughter of a mafia boss. She never got involved in the killings herself, but she did help during the clean-up. However, this was her _father_. “If you do it, Charlie will be really mad at you. This will be a publicity stunt nightmare, killing the head of one of the most influential families in hell!” In reality, Angel didn’t want Henroin to suffer in front of his siblings, no matter how much he hated him. He also knew that Molly and Arackniss, as well as the Ragno clan, would suffer without him. He would hurt Henroin for the heck of it, but he couldn’t bring himself to harm his siblings. He loved them too much for that.

“Hmm,” Alastor seemed to think about it. “Alright, then!” Angel sighed in relief. However, what he didn’t expect was for Alastor to turn to Henroin, a dangerous glint in his eyes and the gun still pointed to his head, and say, “You’re on thin ice, my fellow... Let’s go, Angel!”

Angel went to follow him, before hearing someone say, “Angel, wait!” It was Molly. She was holding his phone, that she had gotten from her father’s table while he was still in shock from being threatened by the Radio Demon. “You almost forgot this.” Angel took the phone and smiled at her, thanking her telepathically. It was weird how, even not being biological twins, they were still able to talk like this with each other. Molly stayed put for a moment, as if deciding on what to do, and then hugged him unexpectedly. Angel was surprised for a moment, not having seen it coming, but hugged her back nonetheless. Everything at this point felt surreal. “You’ll always be my twin brother, no matter what,” she said, breaking the hug and looking him in the eye. Angel felt so bad for her. Her entire world had been turned upside down simply because he wanted answers. This was all his fault. “Don’t worry about us, Angie. Go live your life.”

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” he apologized sorrowfully before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist!
> 
> Boy, that was a long ass chapter, but I'm pretty proud of it, honestly. I've been polishing this chapter for two days, and writing it for three. Also, in case you guys didn't notice, every chapter is named after a song that I like. "Disappearance Addiction" is one of the best Hatsune Miku songs in my opinion. Last chapter was named Truth or Dare, after the song Truth or Dare by Emily Osment. You should give it a listen. A lot of the lyrics are somewhat relevant to the chapter lol.
> 
> Also, in case you guys are wondering what Alastor was singing, the song is called Johanna (Reprise) by Sweeney Todd. I simply replaced 'Johanna' with 'Pandora'. I think this song is super cool. And no, this isn't a songfic, I just added a few of the lyrics because it gave Alastor some depth.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> EDIT: I wanted to edit this to say that I don't know how to write accents. I thought it would be better to not write it at all than to mess it up. Pretend Henroin has an Italian accent please.


	3. The lost one's weeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel Dust and Alastor have an interesting conversation while going back to the hotel, and Charlie worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYY I'm back!
> 
> Guys, I'm incredibly surprised at how positive the comments have been, and I couldn't be happier that you guys are enjoying and speculating. However, all things must come to an end, and today your speculations shall end, because questions will be answered! I'm very happy to post this chapter, especially since I had a tiny moment of writer's block. Also! This chapter WAS going to be much bigger, but it was already 8900 words long and I didn't wanna bore you guys.
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and heed the trigger warnings in every chapter! Please stay safe!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: BLOOD.

The ride back to the hotel was torturously slow.

Angel Dust and Alastor were both sitting on opposite sides of the limousine, as far away from each other as possible. It had been Angel’s idea to separate himself from Alastor (who did not protest this); a rare occurrence, since he usually tried to get as close to other demons as physically possible. There was no silence, only the deafening sound of static that naturally radiated from Alastor. Speaking of which, he wasn’t surprised with Angel’s behavior, since he had been avoiding him for a while now. He watched from the corner of his eye the spider demon hug himself tightly, looking down at his own high heels. He had a look of pure distress on his face, which was also unsurprising, considering everything that had unfolded in such a short period of time. After minutes of silence, Angel broke the faux silence by looking up and asking, “How much of that did you hear?” Alastor had not expected him to talk at all during the ride, much less ask such a question. Still, he supposed he could answer it truthfully. No one would dare challenge him about it anyway.

“I heard everything—” Alastor explained, pointing towards his cane, that had been resting in his lap. “—with _this_.” Angel eyed the cane for a moment, as if processing what to do with that information. He looked disappointed, and slightly creeped out (which was understandable), but not surprised. His gaze landed on the floor once again, and Alastor thought that was the end of it. That is, until he heard laughter. He stared in confusion at Angel, who had started giggling uncontrollably like a preteen that had just heard a dirty joke for the first time in their life. It was… Strange. “May I ask what's so funny?” he asked, really wanting to know, as this was uncharacteristic and unexpected. The giggling intensified. Alastor was confused as to how the events had developed until now. How could Angel bounce from being serious and somber to full-blown manic laughter in a matter of seconds?

Everything made sense when he heard a tiny, almost inaudible sob between the giggles, and the laughter was quickly replaced with a weird combination of crying and laughing at the same time that not even Angel himself seemed to be able to understand. “I can’t believe I ruined my entire fucking life in one night,” he lamented, trying to hide the tears that were forming at the corner of his eyes. The lump in his throat was bigger, and made it harder for him to breathe. It was like he had swallowed a rock that had attached itself to his throat. Why did this always happen when he cried? It was bothersome. Angel tried to control himself. He didn’t want to downright start crying in front of Alastor. He never cried in front of anyone. Besides, sobbing-laughing in front of him was enough. Still, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his emotions inside for much longer. It was pure torture, and it felt like he was going to explode trying to keep his tears from flowing freely.

Alastor tilted his head slightly. “Why is your life ruined?”

Angel Dust then stopped his pity party for a moment to stare at Alastor like he had grown a second head. Had he just…? No, there was no way. No one could be this dumb, especially not _him_. This had to be some sort of joke. “Are you kidding? My family hates me now! I broke it apart!” The memory made him want to cry even more, but he stifled the feeling. He could see Molly’s face of disappointment clearly in his head, and even though she had never been mad at _him_ specifically, he knew it was his fault that she had been disappointed in the first place. If he had just let it go, and not tried to find out the truth about the logistics of the physical differences between him and Molly, perhaps his family would still be slightly functional. Would Molly be mad at her father? Knowing her, it was very likely. Molly was capable of holding a grudge for a long time; it was one of the things they had in common, personality-wise. He knew this because he had been at the receiving end of those grudges for the longest time, usually for something petty, like taking her favorite comb. They made up in the end most of the time, and the other times they simply forgot about the grudge given enough time.

“It seems you and your family have never been in good spirits in the first place,” Alastor pointed out, closing his eyes for a moment in contemplation. Angel Dust opened his mouth to argue, thinking he had a case, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t, because that was a good point. Why was he so worried about what his family thought of him? The only one who he cared about was Molly (and maybe Arackniss depending on the day and how he acted), and she didn’t care about what her family thought of him. So why did it hurt so much? Why did it hurt to know he wasn’t truly a Ragno? Silence reigned once more, the only sounds making themselves present being Alastor’s radio static and the sounds of the limousine’s engine. Angel kept asking himself when this goddamn limo was going to reach its destination, and why it was so slow. It was like the universe was purposefully torturing him. He could barely handle the sound of the radio static that loomed above him. It was intimidating. With every minute, his anxiety grew.

“Um, Al…” Angel Dust suddenly said, performing on auto-pilot. He realized it was too late to simply stop talking. He could feel his face burning, but thankfully his fur prevented Alastor from seeing anything. God, what was he thinking? “Can I ask you a question?” _What are you doing?_ Angel asked himself, wanting to go bury himself in a desert far, far away. He wished he had time-traveling powers to undo this. It was too late, though. It had already been said, and there was nothing that could be done about it. There was silence for a while, that deafening silence (something very contradictory in Angel’s eyes) that pierced his soul and made his anxiety spike uncontrollably. He looked at Alastor, hoping to be able to read his body language, but it was like trying to read a book written in a dead language. After a few seconds of silence, he finally got his answer:

“You just did!” Alastor replied with a laugh.

Angel remained silent for a second, trying to process what just happened. Did he just make a dad joke? Yup, he did. This was his life now. “...Can I ask another question, _not_ counting this one?” he specified, deciding to ignore the terrible joke that had been just told to him. He wanted to slap himself. That had been his chance to correct his mistake and say something along the lines of ‘yeah, how silly of me’ and then shut up forever, but he had already gone in too deep. It was time to find answers. He had already ruined his relationship with his family, what would one more burned bridge be in comparison to that? He patiently waited for an answer, wondering what answer he would receive. He was fully expecting him to be told to go fuck himself, honestly.

“Hmmm…” Alastor seemed deep in thought for a moment, closing his eyes and putting a hand on his chin to demonstrate that. “Alright. I’ll allow one question, but only one!” he finally decided, his voice tone ever so cheerful, despite the situation they found themselves in. Angel nodded, feeling like he was going to faint, because he wasn’t expecting this to happen. He had to be careful with what question he was going to ask, since he could only ask one. He thought about it for a moment. He wanted a question that was precise enough but not too on-the-nose. What question would that be? _Think, think, think…_ Oh, he had an idea.

“What color were Pandora’s eyes?”

Alastor seemed to have done a double-take at this, having the same expression _and_ sound effect (the one of a disc scratch) of when he had been offered Angel’s... _services_. It would be hilarious to watch if Angel hadn’t been serious about this. Perhaps any other day this would have been hilarious. “I beg your pardon?” Alastor asked, wondering if he misheard. Angel did not back down.

He repeated himself, “Your daughter’s eyes. What color were they?” Before Alastor could even think about what to respond with, Angel Dust continued talking, as if talking to himself. “Were they green?” he asked, watching the other’s facial expression shift into something incomprehensible. He was still smiling, however, which was somewhat off-putting (Alastor’s whole ‘you’re never fully dressed without a smile’ schtick was odd in general). “Was one of them green and the other blue?” he continued pushing, feeling the anxiety at the bottom of his stomach grow. The radio static in the car intensified, but he no longer cared about that. Truth be told, it was somewhat comforting. Much better than complete silence, at least. Angel finally stopped talking, choosing to just stare at Alastor instead. He could see his eyes were turning into radio dials, which would’ve been unsettling, if not for the fact that Angel Dust no longer cared about dying whatsoever. In fact, he would embrace it, should it come to that. The radio static was almost deafening now. It would definitely affect his hearing for a while.

“ **H͞o̕̕͞w ̧̧͞d͘̕o y̵͜͝ou͢ k̕͜n͏͜o͏͜w̵̨ ̷̛t̕h͘a͞t?̸** ” he asked in an eerie voice tone that sent shivers down Angel Dust’s spine. he knew he was very close to dying right there. He had pushed Alastor to his limits. But he had gotten the answer he was looking for in Alastor’s threat. Pandora _did_ have differently-colored eyes. Angel was prepared to receive this answer, but actually hearing it was still a blow to his soul. He could feel another shiver run down his spine, and then another one. They came in waves, just like his self-loathing. His anxiety had spiked to the max, and he could feel his face burning up, not in shame, but pure uneasiness. He could feel a ringing in his ears, and it felt like he was going to explode at any moment. Amidst all this chaos, he forgot to respond to Alastor, who only got more agitated by the lack of an answer and assumed Angel was refusing to talk to him to be purposefully annoying. “ **I͢ re͘c̴omm͟end ͠yơu a̛nsw̷ęr͜ me,̡ ̛m̵y͜ ͘d̵ear͘ ̕f͟e̶l͏l̡ow̶, ̴before͝ I͘** **_make y͡ou_** **.** ” Oh, he had almost forgotten about that. Angel was glad to have been reminded ‘politely’ about it rather than automatically being shot in the head.

“Didn’t you hear the whole conversation I had with Henroin earlier?” Angel asked, confused. This whole thing was so obvious it was physically painful. It was even more physically painful to call his adoptive father by his name. Even after being disowned, he kept calling him his father, because, well, that was what he _was_ , but not anymore, it seemed. “Didn’t you hear me say that my supposed twin and I were so physically different we couldn’t be identical twins? I thought you said you heard everything!” Alastor’s eyes switched from radio dials back to normal eyes. He listened intently. “Three days ago, you described your daughter’s appearance perfectly, but forgot to talk about her eyes. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but it was the only piece of the puzzle missing for me. I had an identity crisis for three days thinking about it! If you hadn’t said anything back then, I might’ve been living in obliviousness forever...” Angel didn’t know whether he was blaming Alastor or thanking him. He didn’t know anything about himself anymore.

“What are you implying?” Alastor asked, narrowing his eyes. His glare was chilling. Angel Dust did not back down, however. In fact, this only made him feel bolder.

“It means exactly what you think it means,” he replied, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he was going to do this. In one quick sentence, he said confidently, “I think I might be Pandora Larkspur.”

There was a moment of pure silence amongst the two of them. Nothing else could be heard besides the radio static that came from Alastor and the sounds of the car moving. In that moment, Angel felt his anxiety spike beyond control, butterflies flying in his stomach. Had he really just said that, especially when he had no proof? What if he was wrong? He was sure that had to be it. All of the pieces of the puzzle connected beautifully, which was somewhat unsettling and disheartening. And yet Angel Dust couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of doubt deep inside. He had been so confident a moment ago, so what happened? That’s when he saw that Alastor was staring at him, his expression unreadable, and he realized why. _That_ was what made him uncomfortable: confronting Alastor himself. It had all gone much smoother in his head, and the thought that the other sinner might not believe him in the slightest made him want to die a bit. He definitely wouldn’t believe him. Angel wasn’t sure if he believed himself, but he had to, because that was all he had going for him. For about five seconds, the two of them stayed like this, sitting still in their spots, unable to talk.

Angel couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief when Alastor finally opened his mouth to speak, even if it was to ask, “That is quite a bold statement. What will you do if you’re wrong?” That was a good question, and he had a good answer for that.

“Die a bastard, I guess,” Angel replied nonchalantly, shrugging. It was the only thing he could do, right? Still, Alastor hadn’t outright mocked the laughable idea that Angel Dust might be related to him, which made him feel a bit better about it. He decided to continue his explanation. “But I know I’m right. I can feel it. I always felt out of place in my family, like I was an outsider. My mom tried her best to make me fit in, but it’s clear it didn’t work. I just… wasn’t like them, personality-wise. My brother is an emotionless killer who can shoot a gun while blindfolded and with both hands tied behind his back. My sister is the kindest, funniest, and most incredible girl I know. Meanwhile, I’m just a gay disaster who somehow stumbled into their lives and fucked everything up from there. I always thought I was just meant to be the odd one out, the weird younger sibling who can’t keep up with his siblings.” He couldn’t believe he was pouring his heart out to the Radio Demon of all sinners, but Angel found out he couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know if he was still talking to Alastor or if he was talking to himself out loud. He just felt the need to rationalize his assumption.

Alastor nodded, indicating he had been hearing it all. Angel didn’t know how to feel about that. “And how does that tie into your theory?”

“I was getting there,” Angel replied, trying to remember what he was talking about. “Well, it all started during that game night, three days ago. When you described how Pandora looked like, you described exactly how I looked like before my transition. Long, wild, curly bright red hair that reached my waist, an unholy amount of freckles that were spread throughout my body… Seriously, not even Molly had that many freckles… I also had a birthmark that was perfectly shaped like a heart, right around—” he pointed at a specific part of his torso. “—here. I still have it, actually, but it’s pink now, and much bigger than it was… My mom used to say an angel kissed me there and that’s how I got the birthmark, but my brother always said that it signifies how you died in your previous life, and I never knew who to believe…” He chuckled, then paused for a second, before remembering one more thing. “I also had mismatched eyes. My left eye was green, and my right one was blue _and_ green. It was about fifty-fifty for the colors on that one. That’s why my eyes look the way they do down here. I was always insecure about them growing up, but after I became a teenager I stopped caring…” God, he was rambling again. Despite that, Alastor seemed to still be listening. He hadn’t even tried to stop him once, and there was a good reason for that.

 _He’s describing Pandora perfectly,_ Alastor thought, the seriousness of the situation finally setting in. Of course, anyone would be able to describe his daughter if they were present during the ‘interrogation’ at the Hazbin Hotel’s game night. However, he had purposefully ‘forgotten’ to describe Pandora’s eyes so she wouldn’t be totally recognizable. If that was the case, how did Angel know she had sectoral heterochromia? And why did he have it himself? Alastor hadn’t written about his daughter’s eyes anywhere. Actually, he hadn’t written about his daughter at all, so how did he know all of that? Things were getting serious now. It was no longer a crazy theory that Angel seemed to have come up with out of nowhere, it had _actual basis_. Alastor waited until the other had stopped his rambling (which was funny and somewhat cute, he had to admit), and let the silence fall between them for a second before asking, trying to keep his voice calm and void of emotion, “How can you be sure?” He watched as Angel’s face fell for a moment, trying to think of ways to convince Alastor, but probably coming up with nothing. Truth be told, Alastor didn’t need much convincing.

“I don’t know,” Angel finally answered. They dove into silence once again. The radio static that filled the air was nearly unbearable. Angel didn’t want to look at Alastor, feeling shame, but he forced himself to anyway, because he needed to know what he was thinking (despite not having been able to read Alastor since forever) and found the other staring directly into his eyes. His smile seemed more… Genuine, somehow. Angel felt a shiver run down his spine. It was like something was off, because he had never seen Alastor smile genuinely. Just when he felt like things had reached the maximum weirdness, he asked:

“Do you want to find out?”

And that was when the limousine stopped. This confused Angel to no end. “What do you mean?” he asked, dumbfounded. Find out? How would they find out? As far as he knew, there were no paternity tests in hell, because sinners couldn’t have biological children, and no one really cared about finding lost children, since most families already knew each other very well. Angel could clearly recognize Molly, since she was a spider demon, like him. Most demon families looked like each other, which left Angel to wonder why he didn’t look like Alastor if that was the case. The doors of the limo were opened by the chauffeurs, Razzle and Dazzle, Charlie’s bodyguards. Angel hadn’t even realized they were the ones driving. He really wanted to know how they drove the limousine, considering their heights. His attention turned to Alastor, who got up and snapped his fingers, allowing his cane to vanish in a puff of smoke.

He left the limo first, and then offered one hand to Angel Dust, who was confused for a minute before accepting the help. It was weird. If this had been any other day, Alastor would have refused to touch him. Perhaps it was the fact that Angel was no longer flirting with him, and that they might be related. This was a weird situation in general. While they walked back towards the hotel, Angel kept his gaze focused on the floor, deep in thought. How would they find out the truth? What did Alastor mean when he asked if he wanted to find out? Did he have a plan? Angel had so many questions, and no answers for any of them. It was driving him insane. And now he also had to act like nothing was happening in front of the others, which he had already been doing for three days. It had been very hard, and now it was about to get even harder. What was Alastor going to do? Angel imagined he would have a much easier time than him, considering he was the infamous Radio Demon, the master of manipulation and deception. Masking his emotions would just be another Thursday for him.

When the doors to the hotel were finally opened, they were greeted with a very concerned Charlie, who hovered over Angel Dust like a concerned mother after her child broke curfew. It was clear she had been worried sick, due to the way she had been chewing her nails and pacing back and forth before spotting them. “Angel! You’re okay! I mean, I’m assuming you’re okay! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the medical bay? Where were you? Why were you out for so long? You could’ve called me or something, I was so worried...” She continued rambling for a while. Angel tried to bear with it for a moment, but found out he couldn't. This was torture, and not just because she was being loud and in his face about it, but because he was already under enough stress, and being suddenly interrogated wasn’t helping him calm his nerves at all. Angel tried very hard to focus, but couldn’t. It was like the world was crumbling around him, his anxiety getting the best of him. “Angel—”

“Shut up!” Angel finally exploded, pressing his hands against his ears and closing his eyes. “Shut up, shut up!” He hadn’t even realized his feet were moving on their own, and that he was running, he only did so when he opened his eyes again. Where was he running to? Did he know? His room, it had to be his room. That was the only place he could go to if he wanted some peace and quiet. It was surreal to see him move like this, as if he wasn’t in control of his body anymore. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up...” he continued to yell. His tantrum got fainter and fainter the farther he went, until it was inaudible to Charlie and Alastor. 

Charlie stared at everything that unfolded with wide eyes, not expecting Angel to lash out like he did. He looked exactly like he did during breakfast: anxious, depressed, fragile, and seemingly about to pass out at any moment. The color of his fur was still dull, if not duller than before, and his fur wasn’t in the best state; it had seen better days. Angel prided himself in having a flawless appearance, so him not taking care of it was incredibly out of character. Something had clearly happened, and she was going to find out. She wanted to find out, for Angel’s sake. If she knew what plagued him, she could help. Charlie turned to Alastor, who was currently her only source of information, since he knew what went on and the reasons for Angel’s disappearance, and asked, “What happened?”

“What do you mean, my dear?” Alastor asked.

“Angel looks worse than he did in the morning!” she explained, chewing on her nails again. At this rate she wouldn’t have nails at all to chew. She began pacing around nervously. It was a terrible habit of hers whenever she was worried about something. “And he wouldn’t just scream at me like that! I know he wouldn’t. Something terrible must’ve happened to set him on edge. Do you know what happened? You were the one who found him, after all,” Charlie said. Alastor nodded, and responded:

“I do.”

And then there was silence. Charlie waited for him to explain, but it was clear after three seconds of silence that he wouldn’t. She decided to say, instead, “...Would you mind telling me?”

Alastor shook his head. “Unfortunately, it isn’t up to me to decide that. I want to keep Angel Dust’s troubles private until he has sorted them out himself. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you?” This was such a hard decision for her. On one hand, she wanted to respect Angel’s wishes and stay out of his personal life. It wasn’t her business, anyway. However, she wanted to help him so badly. Angel was hurting, and him wanting to keep his problems to himself was damaging him even further. He probably didn’t know that, though, and that’s where she would come in. Charlie was his friend, but she was also the Happy Hotel’s owner, and she had to make sure her star patron was well. Most importantly, though, she had to make sure her _friend_ was well. They had known each other for around seven months now. Charlie was sure she could consider Angel one of her best friends, even if he did get on her nerves sometimes. That’s what friends did, after all. Still, she went with her gut and decided to respect his wishes. It was the only option she had.

“Yeah, I get it,” Charlie responded, looking down at her feet and rubbing her arm with one hand. “I’m still worried though…”

Alastor laughed as if nothing was wrong. “Worry not, dear! I’m sure he’ll come around in the morning,” he said. Charlie nodded. He was right. Perhaps Angel would be better in the morning. He just needed some time to collect his thoughts and calm down. This time she would keep a better eye on him, and not let him leave the hotel. It was clear that he wasn’t ready for that. Before she got the chance to thank Alastor for his insight, however, she noticed him spin on his heels and walk towards the door, which was weird. Why would he leave the hotel at this hour? It was already late at night, and most businesses would already be closed at this hour. That is, unless he was leaving to ‘hunt’, like he used to do, but Alastor had promised her he wouldn’t do this anymore. Why was everyone acting so strange all of a sudden? Charlie wished she had accompanied him in hunting Angel down instead of pacing around the door for around an hour, just so she could know what was going on instead of being left in the dark. The suspense was killing her.

“Wait, you’re leaving? Where are you going?” Charlie asked.

Alastor smiled cryptically, which was a bad sign. She knew that smile, and that wasn’t a good smile. Nothing good ever came out of that smile, only misfortune and dead demons. “I just have a few errands to run, sweetheart,” he explained, which did not ease Charlie’s anxieties in the slightest. She wanted to tell him to not slaughter anyone, but it was too late.

Alastor had already left the hotel, closing the door behind him, and leaving Charlie all alone with her thoughts.

**_. . ._ **

In his room, Angel screamed into a pillow.

He had locked the door to prevent anyone from entering— or, more specifically, to prevent _Charlie_ from entering, since no one else cared. After doing that, he just stood there for a while, in a daze, before making his way to his bed like a zombie, and carelessly throwing himself on his bed, feeling a little more relaxed after feeling the silky sheets cover his body. Angel stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how his life had gotten to that point, wondering about every terrible decision he had made in life and ever since he landed in hell. The events played in his head like a movie that he had been forced to watch and would never forget. The frustration piled up deep inside him, and he grabbed the nearest thing he could find — which happened to be a pillow — and screamed into it. He did this for maybe five seconds, only stopping when he had run out of oxygen. After that, Angel Dust cast the pillow aside and continued to stare at the ceiling for a long while. He felt numb and depressed. He had been feeling this way for a while, but this day cemented his feelings and suspicions even more, and made him dive deeper into his mental issues. He was tired and aching, emotionally and physically.

He sometimes wished Fat Nuggets weren’t locked in the studio, just so that he could have someone, anyone, to talk with. He couldn’t go to anyone, not even Charlie, because they wouldn’t understand. In fact, they’d probably mock him for daring to assume something like that. Perhaps Alastor was right. Angel had no concrete proof that they were related, only his intuition, which happened to be wrong most of the time. At that point, he was doubting himself. He had only been right about one thing, and that was that he was adopted. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, since he and Molly were so different from each other. Still, he had been taking a shot in the dark by accusing Henroin of lying about his birth, and he could very well have been wrong about that as well. Thankfully, his adoptive father’s confession made things much easier.

But it didn’t make it any less painful.

“Am I going to be a bastard forever?” Angel found himself asking out loud and to no one in particular. He wasn’t even sure if he was asking himself, it was more like a wandering thought that made its way to his vocal cords. This was actually one of his biggest fears right now: having no family. Of course, he still had _some_ family left. Adoptive or not, Molly would always be his dear twin sister. His feelings towards Arackniss were very capricious depending on their interactions, but Angel knew he was just looking out for his younger sibling. Arackniss had good intentions, even if he did come across as rude and slightly transphobic. He could only assume this was because of Henroin, who Angel despised more than anyone in the family, and his influence on his siblings, who were afraid to oppose him. Henroin had always treated him differently from Arackniss and Molly, always a little more cold and curt than usual, and he never knew why. Well, now he did. He remembered his question, ‘Did you ever see me as your own son?’ Henroin’s silence was the only answer he needed. It was a painful answer that pierced his heart and tore him apart, but it was an answer, at least, even if it was devoid of words.

Angel rolled around his bed, covering himself with his blankets. He didn’t even bother taking his clothes off. He was too tired and depressed to do anything other than wallow in his own misery. In fact, to torture himself even further, he replayed the conversation that happened inside the limousine over and over, obsessing over the tiny details and wondering what would’ve happened if he had worded things differently, or if he hadn’t said anything at all. What would’ve happened if he had approached thing in another way? Would he be where he was now? And what did Alastor mean when he asked if Angel wanted to find out? Find out _what_? If they were related? He was sure there was no way to truly confirm this in hell. Well, as far as he knew, at least.

Angel hadn’t realized he had started dozing off until he had fallen asleep completely.

He woke up to a knock on the door. A very familiar, rhythmic knock that made him immediately sit up and then regret it as his world spun for a moment, his head aching. God, was it even possible to have a hangover without drinking? Angel paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and make his head stop spinning, having almost forgotten about the knocks until a voice came from the other side of the door and assertively told him, “Angel, I am coming in! Are you decent?” It was like he feared. Alastor was in front of his room, saying he was going to come in at any moment. Was he there to kill him? Angel hoped that, whatever his fate was, it would be quick, painless, and merciful. Oh, who was he kidding? This was the Radio Demon he was talking about.

Angel was glad he decided not to take his clothes off, because he didn’t have the energy to put them on again, nor did he have the energy to turn Alastor away. “Personality-wise, no, but I’m wearing pants if that’s what you mean,” he replied, trying to pretend he was okay and putting some sass in his voice, which still managed to come out as tired and slurred. Usually Angel wouldn’t care if someone walked in and saw him with no clothes on, as he was used to having little to no privacy considering his career choice, but after the awkward talk with Alastor he didn’t feel comfortable doing anything remotely sexual near him. It was a weird sensation, almost unnatural, like he was going against his very nature as a porn star. But, if anyone had witnessed what he had the day before, they’d probably do the same.

Angel had almost forgotten that he had locked the door the day before, and was ready to get up and unlock it, because the only other option was having a broken door (he was one-hundred percent sure Alastor would resort to that), which wouldn’t be any good. However, while he was already making his way to the door, Angel heard the faint jingling of keys from the other side. That’s when he heard the sound of the door being unlocked, and found himself face-to-face with Alastor, something he wasn’t expecting at all. Angel’s mind blanked for a moment as he tried to process what happened. He had completely forgotten that Alastor, being the main and only sponsor of the hotel, had a keyring that allowed him to unlock every door of said hotel. On one hand, Angel saw him holding the keyring, but it’s what was on his other hand that intrigued him. Alastor was holding a black plastic bag that looked very mysterious and very full. Angel was hoping it wasn’t full of _random demons’ guts_ , like it would usually be, because he didn’t have the stomach for that so early in the morning, especially when he was having an emotional hangover. He started feeling nauseous just thinking about it.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the plastic bag and almost fearing the answer he would receive. Alastor laughed, but not in a condescending manner like he usually did. It seemed more… _Lighthearted_. How weird.

“I did ask you if you wanted to find out, didn’t I?”

Angel’s heart skipped a beat as he immediately remembered their conversation from last night, and he realized that he _still_ didn’t understand. Was Alastor talking about his parentage? How did he intend to figure _that_ out? Was the answer inside that bag that he was carrying? He did notice that the shapes inside the bag were much rougher and cube-shaped, which meant that, unless he had killed a Rubik’s Cube demon, he wasn’t carrying guts and blood, which was a relief. Still, Angel couldn’t help but wonder what was inside. He raised an eyebrow and asked, his voice still carrying a tinge of tiredness, “What did you even mean by that? How do you plan to figure it out? As far as I know, there aren’t paternity tests in hell, or a TV show like Maury that we can go to.” Angel had almost forgotten how good of a show Maury was. He loved those types of entertainment. It helped him feel less lonely, plus… The drama was pretty good.

Alastor chuckled. “There isn’t a paternity test _that you know of_ ,” he said, putting the black plastic bag on Angel’s nightstand, which was currently empty. “Thankfully, through my… _Connections_ , I was able to find something that might help us out!” Alastor then opened the plastic bag and pulled out a small black box that had nothing written on it. Angel stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what it was, but there was literally nothing written on it. It just looked like a black box. Alastor ripped it open and pulled out a white plastic stick that looked eerily similar to a pregnancy test, except that this stick had two ends instead of one. Angel didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh in despair. What even _was_ this thing?

“What the heck is that?” he asked, trying not to sound too freaked out and failing miserably.

“This, my friend, is a paternity test,” Alastor explained, putting the item on the nightstand gently, and Angel was sincerely doubting at that moment. There was no way in hell that was a paternity test. “They’re very rare in hell, considering not many demons are interested in finding their relatives. Thankfully, I was able to find some due to my friend’s help.“ _He has friends?_ Angel asked himself mentally. _What a stupid thought,_ he then scolded himself, _he has to at least have acquaintances, he’s the Radio Demon!_

“It looks like a bootleg pregnancy test,” he told Alastor, whose smile widened for an unknown reason.

“I am not the one who manufactured them, therefore I am not to blame for how they look!” he explained. _That makes sense,_ Angel concluded. He patiently watched as the deer demon got the other boxes from inside the paper bag and opened them, putting the tests on the nightstand and putting the boxes back inside the bag. The whole process seemed to take forever in Angel’s eyes, and he was okay with that, because he was scared of doing an actual paternity test. He had never, in his entire life, expected to be on either end of a paternity test for a multitude of reasons, so that never really crossed his mind. However, seeing an actual paternity test in front of him (despite how weird it looked) made the blood rush to his nonexistent ears, the continuous ringing as a background noise being his saving grace during this moment of awkward silence between the two demons in the room. Alastor seemed surprisingly calm about all this, which made Angel even more confused, even though he really shouldn’t be. Alastor was never one to display emotions that weren’t associated with his fake smile or bloodlust. However, there was still one question that plagued him.

“What’s going to happen if we get a false positive?”

Angel could only assume the paternity tests in hell worked like a pregnancy test on Earth would, and that they were bound to fail in one way or another. Most of them weren’t really reliable if someone wanted an accurate test, since they usually cost about twenty dollars at most, and everyone knew that something that was worth twenty dollars probably wasn’t _that_ accurate. But what was this like in hell? How reliable was this paternity test? Alastor said they were rare, so they were probably a little better, right? Besides, they were probably magic, and magic was better than… science? No, that wasn’t right. Well, Angel couldn’t help but speculate. He was a curious bitch by nature.

Alastor pointed to the five tests sitting on Angel’s nightstand. “That is the reason why I bought five of them! The chance of all five paternity tests being negative is incredibly slim.”

Angel nodded, trying to calculate it in his head. If those tests had a 99% probability of being accurate, and a 1% probability of a false positive occurring, the chances of all five tests being inaccurate at the same time were less than 0.0001%. The math did check out. There _was_ a chance that all tests might be negative, but it was such a tiny and improbable number that it was nearly negligible. Angel Dust walked to Alastor, approaching carefully as to not startle him (he knows the other demon doesn’t like things like that, even if he can sense it with his supernatural senses), and eyed the tests suspiciously, like they would jump out and stab him at any minute. He still felt uneasy for a moment, since he had never heard of these things (Alastor _did_ say they were rare, which was probably the reason why), but he felt like he had to trust them, since they were the only chance he had at finding the truth. God, this was a hard decision. He felt like, no matter the result, he would still be doubtful. Well, there was only one way to find out, right? He had to just take a leap of faith.

“So, Smiles, how do those things work?” he asked, eyes still on the tests on his nightstand.

Alastor opened the plastic bag once more and pulled out one of the boxes. From there, he took out a small paper and unfolded it, revealing it to be an instruction manual. He skimmed through for a second before turning to Angel. “First of all, we will need our blood for that,” he explained, and Angel instantly disliked the idea. He didn’t like bleeding. It was terrible. He hated it in life, and hated it in death. The only reason he would put up with it sometimes was because his clients paid for things like blood play. Other than that, he would avoid it if possible. Alastor continued explaining. “The blood will be disposed on these receptors.” He pointed to the bifurcated ends of the test, where two small circles (that were probably the receptors) lied. “This specific brand of paternity test works through colors that will be shown on this part.” Alastor then motioned towards a bigger circle at the other end. “It seems like we are aiming for the color green.”

He handed the paper to Angel, who immediately skipped the explanation of how it worked (since he had already heard it from Alastor) and tried to find out about the other colors. Alastor was right: green meant a child-parent relationship, which was what they were aiming for (well, what he was aiming for, he had no idea what Alastor wanted). He continued reading, wanting to see what the other colors represented. The other possible colors they could get was gray, which meant the results were inconclusive (whatever that meant), and white, which meant there was no blood relationship. Angel wondered if at least one of the results would turn out white or gray. It was likely. He kept reading. If they got red, which they wouldn’t, it would mean they were siblings. Blue was reserved for grandparents and their grandchildren. Yellow was for cousins. Purple was for uncles and aunts and their nephews (and nieces). Pink meant the two were distant relatives (it wasn’t more specific than that). All in all, everything seemed to be in place.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Angel agreed, putting the paper on the nightstand, next to one of the tests. “How are we going to draw blood? Do we have to slash our palms like in the movies?”

Alastor let out a sudden laugh, and then shook his head. “Not unless you want to lose all mobility in your hand for a while! I have a much simpler solution.” Angel raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant by that. He didn’t need to wonder for long, though. With a wave of his hand and a small cloud of smoke, a pincushion filled with multicolored pins appeared in Alastor’s hand. Angel had never seen him summon anything so close before, and he was mesmerized, eyes wide open. It was quite an experience to see that. The pincushion itself was really simple, being various shades of red with nothing more to it, but the sewing pins were the main ‘attraction’. There were a lot of them, and the heads came in various colors. However, as cool as that was, it just raised more questions for him.

“Why do you have so many pins?”

Alastor’s grin became more sinister. “Do you really want to know?”

Angel pondered about that for a moment. “Now that I think about it, not really.”

“We’ll use these pins—” he brandished the pincushion as if it was a crucifix blessed by Jesus. “—to prick our fingers and draw blood, which is less destructive than downright slashing our palms like savages.” Angel nodded, not really feeling offended at the jab. It was kind of funny, actually. He still didn’t like the idea of making himself bleed, though. That part would suck. In fact, the more he thought about it, the less thrilled he became. “We’ll use different pins. If we don’t, the results will be inconclusive.” _Oh, so that’s what this means_ , Angel thought, still going along. He was just going to go along with whatever the deer demon was saying, because it seemed like he knew more about this than Angel did. “Go on, choose your pin.” And so the choice was his. Angel Dust looked at his options and, in the end, went with a pastel pink pin. He had to, it suited him perfectly. However, he regretted it almost immediately after, his father’s words echoing in his head. Too feminine. Too girly. Too… not him. Angel almost put it back, but he had made a decision and was going to stick with it.

Alastor picked a red pin, because of course he did. A pink and a red pin: the situation was almost too cliché to be true. Angel put his pin on the nightstand, next to one of the tests (he first made sure it wouldn’t roll off the nightstand), and took off one of his gloves, since he obviously wouldn’t be able to draw blood with them on. He carelessly tossed the glove on the bed behind him. It was just a glove, it wouldn’t break. As he did that, Alastor took notice of how thin the spider demon’s arms were. It was almost abnormal. Angel Dust’s gloves, big and flashy as they were, really did cover up a good portion of his hands, masking their real thinness. He didn’t say anything about it, though. Alastor doubted Angel would want a comment on how thin he was, even if it had good intentions behind it. Focusing on his own hands instead, Alastor used his pin to prick his left index finger. It was easy and almost painless. He was used to feeling worse, being the infamous Radio Demon and all. He watched as some blood started pouring out from the tiny wound.

Alastor then put his finger above the left receptor, and squeezed it a little, letting the blood fall on top of the circle. He had to be fast, before the wound healed. A demon’s regeneration was much faster than a human’s, and his wounds would heal in around ten seconds depending on how minimal they were. A wounded finger was nothing, and would heal almost instantly. Alastor repeated this process with the other four tests, and then withdrew his hand, watching as the wound slowly closed. Angel didn’t take his eyes off him for a single moment. He didn’t want to mess this up. Taking a deep breath, he picked his pink pin up and stared at it for a moment, feeling dread. Why was he feeling like this? It wasn’t a big deal. He had bled before. It wasn’t that bad… Besides, it wasn't his vein, right? It was just a small prick in his finger. It wasn't like _that time._ It wouldn't be like that time. He was cool with that. He could deal with this. He could do this... Angel closed his eyes and just stabbed his finger lightly with the pin, hoping that would be the end of it. The pain was minimal, but it still sucked. However, his heart was beating faster than he expected. He just hoped his anxiety wasn't visible. Angel opened his eyes to face his own blood, something he hadn’t seen in quite some time. However, there was a reason he didn’t want Alastor to see his blood.

“Your blood is blue.”

“Really? I haven’t noticed,” Angel Dust replied sarcastically. In another time he would’ve made a joke about it, but he really wasn’t in the mood. “It’s a spider thing. It’s best not to think too much about it.” He poured his blood on the receptors that weren’t filled with Alastor’s. Speaking of the devil, he thankfully seemed to have accepted the vague explanation and simply sat back, watching Angel do his thing. After everything was done, Angel tried to relax a little, but found out he couldn’t. The most painful part was done, but the hardest part had yet to begin. “What do we do now?” Angel asked, wondering if there was another step he had to do. He hadn’t read the manual, so he didn’t know how this worked as well as Alastor did.

“Now we just have to wait around fifteen seconds for the tests to analyze our blood’s compatibility.” Angel nodded, offering him the pin back. “You can keep it, if you want.”

“Why would I want to keep a voodoo pin?”

“Touché,” Alastor replied, a little surprised that the other had figured out so easily the pins’ purposes, and snapping his now unharmed fingers. With that, the pink pin disappeared from Angel’s hand in a cloud of crimson smoke, along with the red pin and the pincushion that had been resting on the nightstand. Angel Dust decided to use those fifteen seconds to turn around and pick his glove again. It felt wrong for his hand to be exposed like that, especially since he knew Alastor was judging his weight. He saw the glare thrown in his direction, even if Alastor himself thought he was being sneaky. Angel was just hyper-aware of anything related to his weight. While putting the glove on, Angel realized the wound had already healed, leaving behind a patch of dried blood on his finger. He would clean that up later. With the glove back on, he could now focus on the tests.

They waited for the results patiently. The box said it would only take fifteen seconds, but those seconds seemed to last an eternity to Angel Dust, who kept muttering things under his breath to calm his stress. Alastor raised a curious eyebrow upon catching him doing this. “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Angel looked up, surprised that he had been caught. He seemed hesitant to answer.

“Math.”

Angel did not elaborate. Instead, he focused on the test, staring at it like it would get up and stab him with a holy knife. Alastor chose to not pester him further (even though he could, if he wanted to, because he was now curious) and also put his focus onto the paternity tests instead. The silence was unbearable, especially due to the deer demon’s constant radio noise. Angel thought he would go crazy if he had to stare at this damned test for one more moment while his eardrum was assaulted by the terrible noise. His prayers were answered, however, because eventually he saw something: colors! The first test they did was complete.

Green.

Angel felt like his heart had stopped beating. His head started spinning, and he tried to shake the feeling off. He never imagined that seeing the color green in front of him would cause him to feel such a wide variety of emotions, most of which ranged from confusing to troubling. Angel Dust did not dare look at Alastor right now. He couldn’t imagine how the other felt, but he knew for a fact his stupid grin was still there like always. Instead, he chose to focus on the remaining tests. It could be a false positive. They didn’t know. Only when the other tests showed their true colors they would know. Then, the second test besides the first one flashed with a new result. One by one, the tests showed their results consecutively.

Green.

Green.

Green.

_Green._

Angel stared at all of the tests with his eyes wide open. There was not a single white or gray in sight. Was this even happening? Was he in the Twilight Zone right now? He started doubting all of the calculations he had done in his head, wondering if he had made a mistake. However, there was no error. The calculations were correct. It was basic math. Unless they had gotten incredibly lucky and landed the jackpot on the false negative department, all of those green tests were correct. Angel couldn’t believe it. _He_ had been the one to propose this ludicrous idea and he had the _audacity_ to be surprised. He couldn’t help but laugh at the bitterness of the situation. Finally, after moments of silence, Angel looked up at Alastor, who, as if reading his mind, decided to exchange glances with him as well. The two stared into each other’s eyes for a second. No words were needed between the two, because they shared the same sentiment:

_What the fuck?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel: I might be your long lost child.  
> Alastor: yeah, you ARE my long lost child.  
> Angel: (surprised pikachu face)
> 
> Oh, Angel... A lot of things from this chapter will be explained on the next one, don't worry. Also, yes, it's July, according to Charlie. Next chapter will have many surprises~ I am very excited! In other news, this chapter's title is "The Lost One's Weeping", a great song from Kagamine rin. Yes, I'm adding a lot of Vocaloid songs. They just have very fitting titles lol.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Tell me if your theory was right! I'm dying to know.


	4. Doubt and trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel Dust and Alastor have a heart-to-heart. Charlie has great news, and chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! A brand new chapter!
> 
> I'm just pumping these out super fast because I'm motivated and quarantined, which means I'm perpetually bored. In this chapter we'll be focusing more on emotions than actions, so I hope you guys are ready for some insight on Angel and Al! I tried to keep this as in-character as possible while adding in my own take of how they would act in this situation. Also, backstories! Just keep in mind that not everything will be answered in this chapter, and things will be answered eventually. If you have a question, let me know in the comments and I'll let you know if it'll be answered in the fanfic. 
> 
> Also keep in mind that I'm not trans or ace, so I did my best to be respectful and try to show show how they would have inner conflicts in their minds regarding those topics (I too have had inner conflicts regarding my sexuality, but I'm not sure how well I was able to represent them since they're so wildly different from each other). And now here's the trigger warnings, please read them before reading every chapter to avoid triggers and squicks:
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, SEXUAL AND PHYSICAL ASSAULT, ACEPHOBIA, TRANSPHOBIA, INTERNALIZED TOXIC MASCULINITY, ABUSE, AND REFERENCED EATING DISORDER.

The two stared at the five tests on Angel’s nightstand with their eyes wide open.

There was only silence between them, and the faint sound of radio static. That is, until Alastor heard laughter. Turning to his side, he saw Angel Dust not even trying to contain his guffawing. He didn’t know if the spider demon always did this, and if he did it this due to nervousness, stress, sadness, or all of these at the same time. He himself was experiencing a combo of emotions that he didn’t know how to process, all he knew was that he was _feeling_ , something he hadn’t done since he arrived in hell. Sure, he had sought entertainment for decades, always smiling and willing to sacrifice someone for his amusement, but that never actually made him feel anything other than temporary Schadenfreude. Emotions always eluded him, especially after certain incidents when he was alive. In hell, he was free to let loose and nobody cared. However, standing in Angel’s pastel pink bedroom and staring at five positive paternity tests made him question everything and feel things he didn’t even know he was capable of feeling. He couldn’t even begin to describe how it felt, only that he was thoroughly confused.

As Alastor predicted, Angel once again started sobbing in between giggles. He didn’t know if this was a common occurrence for him, but now he was slightly worried. The spider carelessly dropped himself on his bed, using his upper pair of arms to cover his face, still crying-laughing, although it had lessened a bit. “Are you okay, Angel?” Alastor asked, allowing himself to show a bit of sympathy for his newly found child. It would definitely take a while until he got used to the term, since he hadn’t expected to find Pandora — _Angel_ , his name was Angel, and not Pandora — at all in hell. He had expected his child to go to heaven, or have died during her stay in hell, which would’ve been tragic, but not incredibly so, as he didn’t know her. He tried to emotionally detach himself from her existence completely, especially after giving her up for adoption, but it was hard, and he never really recovered. Trying to pretend he didn’t give a damn was nearly impossible, and, while he had fooled everyone, he wasn’t fooling himself.

“Yes, just peachy!” Angel replied sarcastically, his voice strained. He was most definitely not okay, and was making a terrible job of hiding it (it’s not like he wanted to, though). Alastor stood there for a second before moving towards the bed and sitting at the edge of it. Angel noticed, but did not say anything. The two sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but one of mutual understanding that they needed time to process this. They sat like this for about ten seconds straight, Alastor’s radio static being the only background sound they could hear, just pondering about their lives in general, before Angel Dust spoke once again, “You know, I never expected my life to amount to this.” Well, this was something both of them could agree on. Alastor nodded, even though the spider demon couldn’t see (as he still had his hands covering his eyes).

“It is a sentiment we share,” he agreed. “I, too, find the current developments very surprising!” Angel found this entire sentence very weird, especially when said out loud like this. Did Alastor always speak like this or was he only noticing it now?

“Why do you speak like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re a poet from the nineteenth century,” Angel elaborated. “You speak like you’re some sort of ancient journalist or… Or… A radio host...” He paused, and Alastor did not say anything, letting him draw his own conclusions. “Fuck, I’m stupid. You were a radio host, weren’t you?” he asked, taking his hands off his face and dropping them to his sides. He decided that staring at the ceiling was more interesting, especially after this embarrassing incident where he might’ve guessed Alastor’s profession while simultaneously insulting the way he talked. Why were they even doing anything? What was the point? Was he really having an existential crisis over this, or was his already existing crisis only accentuated by his continuous idiocy? Fuck if he knew. Alastor’s silence was almost maddening right now, especially due to his radio static that still filled the room. Angel sometimes forgot the static was even there, but during those uncomfortable silences his brain decided to amplify every sound in the room by ten thousand times.

“Yes, I was a radio host,” Alastor decided to reply cheerfully, sounding proud of his work. “In fact, it was my duty to report on criminal activities that were happening in New Orleans, especially due to an active serial killer being in the area.”

“Sounds like a really important job.”

“It was. Too bad they never realized the poor sheep was the wolf all along!” And with that said, Alastor laughed. _Damn,_ Angel thought. He knew the deer demon was in hell for a good reason, especially because of the way Vaggie described him during the beginning of the year, but he didn’t expect Alastor to be a serial killer. Angel didn’t really feel like it was his fault, though, because no one at the hotel knew anything about Alastor besides Mimzy, and she refused to spill his secrets. Still, he definitely should’ve seen it coming. The deer demon continued to talk with great delight about his profession. Angel was surprised. If this were any other day, Alastor wouldn’t have even thought about entertaining the idea of answering his questions about his life as a human. “It was amazingly humorous to watch all of my colleagues cower in fear of being the next victim of the infamous New Orleans serial killer, not knowing that the predator was their cherished coworker all along.”

Angel nodded, finding the story compelling. “So how did it end?” he asked, knowing that he probably shouldn’t be asking this. It was very personal, but his mouth worked faster than his brain. “How did you die?”

He thought Alastor would end their conversation there and then, but, surprisingly, he didn’t. Instead, he paused to think about it. “I made a small lapse in my judgement, and got caught in my own web.” Angel would’ve laughed at the irony (being a spider demon and all), but he was too engaged in the story to do so. He also didn’t want Alastor to think he was mocking him, causing him to wrap things up without a thought. “The police found out my identity, and chased me with their dogs. I accidentally tripped on a rock while trying to escape, and said dogs mauled me to death. I died like prey that day, and so I became prey in my afterlife. Quite ironic, if you ask me.” It _was_ ironic. Angel never thought to make the connection with Alastor’s deer features and the fact that they were connected to prey, especially when he was anything but. Still, that story had a very tragic ending, even for a ruthless serial killer like Alastor.

“Jesus, that’s rough.”

“Indeed,” Alastor agreed, his expression turning more serene. “And what about you, Angel? How did _you_ die? I’m under the assumption that your death was no more pleasant than mine.”

Angel didn’t really want to answer, because it was stupid and shameful, but he felt like it was only fair to Alastor, since he had shared something so personal with him. Bracing himself, he quickly replied without a second thought, “Suicide via overdose.”

He felt Alastor still. “Oh?”

“Yeah…” Angel felt awkward talking about this, but it felt easier the more he spoke about it. The memories had been repressed deep down, and they were slowly resurfacing, but the fact that they happened a long time ago didn’t make them any less painful. “I got a heavy PCP dose and shot it all up at the same time. It was much more than my small body could handle, which was exactly what I was hoping for. If I was going to kill myself, I was going to enjoy my final moments, you know? Alas, it wasn’t enjoyable.” Angel didn’t really mention that PCP was the only thing available for him to kill myself in his hazy state of mind, grief-stricken and emotionally broken after everything that happened in his life. He also didn’t mention that he hasn’t really recovered from the trauma he caused himself and his family, especially his dear sister, after she found his dead body lying on the floor next to their beds, a suicide note lying by his feet. Molly says that she harbors no ill will towards him nor does she blame him, but he has a hard time believing this, especially due to how she handles him with kid gloves, afraid to worsen his mental state and fearing for a second death due to suicide. It would be easy for him to find a holy weapon to off himself with, being a Ragno and all… Well, ex-Ragno, now.

“And what drove you to that?” Alastor asked. The radio filter in his voice had lessened a bit, allowing Angel to hear bits and pieces of his real voice. Could he even turn that filter off? He was afraid to ask, but really wanted to know. “To take your own life?”

“It’s just a series of events that came together to form a huge pile of ‘fuck you’, a present from the universe tailored especially for me. My mom died, I came out as trans, my dad somewhat disowned me, I got caught in the mafia business… It all went downhill from there, you know?” From what he remembered, it was less fucked up in his head. Maybe it was the trauma speaking, but he remembered his life being less eventful than that, and he hadn’t even said half the stuff that happened. He wasn’t ready to say the rest out loud. “But, now that I think about it, she wasn’t really my mom, right? Who even is my biological mom?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Alastor replied cheerfully. “I am.”

There was only silence for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

Alastor shook his head, his smile growing more sincere. “I thought it’d be obvious by the way I phrased it. Just like you, I was assigned female at birth. It seems like this is one of the things we have in common, perhaps through genetics, although I’m not thoroughly informed on the subject. I did not start my transition until I was twenty-years-old, though, so I only came out a little later in life.” Angel just went along with it for the time being, his head spinning. He was being told so much information that it was hard to process some things that he was hearing. Alastor seemed to notice this. “Are you alright there?” Deep down, Angel was not alright. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but it seemed like the two of them were making this conversation more and more personal. Not that he minded! It was nice to learn about Alastor and his life as a human, but it seemed like some of the things they were saying were a lot more intimate than usual for this type of conversation. He had almost forgotten that Alastor knew about Angel being trans before Angel even told him, due to him eavesdropping on his conversation with Henroin earlier. It was just another thing to add to the ‘what the heck?’ pile.

“Uh, yeah, it’s just…” Angel Dust sighed, a little nervous. “I don’t know how to explain… Fuck, sorry, I don’t wanna seem like a jerk.” Alastor nodded, thinking about the situation for a moment. The spider demon felt very guilty. Angel didn’t want to offend his biological parent now by sounding transphobic, especially since he was transgender himself. He wished he would just have a holy heart attack and die on the spot to get out of this conversation.

“Would it have made a difference if I was a biological male?” Alastor finally asked.

“I…” Angel trailed off. Was he sweating? He had been in hell for around seventy years and he still didn’t know whether he could sweat or not, but it sure felt like it. “Maybe…?” he answered hesitantly. _Why are you such an idiot?_ Angel asked himself mentally, feeling like he was the biggest idiot in hell.

Alastor nodded, acknowledging the answer. “Why is that?”

Angel Dust allowed himself to relax just a little. The deer demon didn’t seem mad, just curious. Perhaps he could try to explain why he felt like this, and maybe find out why _himself_ , because he sure as fuck didn’t know. “I think….” He had to think before he spoke. He didn’t want to come across as a jackass, especially when they were having such a nice conversation. “I think it feels more… Personal…?” He closed his eyes, trying to translate his thoughts into coherent speech. So far, he hadn’t fucked it all up. It was progress. “Like, going through pregnancy and having to push a whole goddamn child out of your genitals is more personal than just having sex with someone and being there for those nine months, you know?” Was he explaining this right? He felt like he was, but it felt wrong to say that, like he was judging Alastor for his decision to give him up for adoption. Was he? He didn’t want to, especially since he had such amazing family members like his (adoptive) mom and Molly. Alastor’s silence was unsettling him. Angel continued to talk out of nervousness. Had he said something wrong? “I mean, you probably didn’t have a bond with me, but that doesn’t really matter.” 

And it didn’t… Right?

“That was an interesting theory,” Alastor said. “Quite unfortunately, it is wrong.” Angel’s heart skipped a beat. What did he mean by that? “I was… Interested in the prospect of having a child of my own, I must say. Despite not being entirely fond of children, it was different when it came to my own progeny. Knowing that there is an entire being that’s going to be half of you makes you rethink your life in philosophical ways that you wouldn’t even think were possible. So, yes, you were wrong to say there was no bond.” Angel tried to wrap his head around this. So that meant that Alastor… Wanted him? He didn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, it was good to know he wasn’t just tossed aside carelessly without a second thought like a bag of trash. On the other, that raised more questions than it answered, and he had one in particular that wouldn’t stop bothering him.

“So why…?” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Angel wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. However, he had a feeling that Alastor would tell him anyway, and he was right.

“I could not take care of you.” Angel immediately held his breath, listening intently. There was a certain… Emotion in Alastor’s voice that he could not recognize. Once again, his radio filter wavered, almost revealing his true voice. It made the spider demon wonder if Alastor truly had control over his own voice, or if it was tied to his emotions (which seemed nonexistent up until this point). “For a whole month I tried, but I was not parent material. Between taking care of my dying mother and battling my own demons, I was sure I was going to mess it up. I was going to mess _you_ up. I did not want that. I wanted you to have more competent parents— parents who were _ready_ for a child. Like I’ve said four days ago, giving you up is my biggest regret, something I can never take back, but, at the same time, I feel like you would’ve been worse if I had raised you.” The radio static once again filled the air, and the spider demon found it quite soothing this time, instead of grating and anxiety-inducing. It was a reminder that Alastor was still there.

“I understand. It must’ve been a hard decision,” Angel Dust replied after a moment of silence between them. Truth be told, he didn’t really understand, since he never went through what Alastor did, but he could feel sympathy for him. Angel didn’t really know how to feel at that moment, but there was a sense of relief upon knowing _why_ he had been adopted. It had been for his own sake, and not because he was a mistake, a failure. “So, Pandora, huh?” Angel asked, trying to change the subject to something more lighthearted. He was tired of grim and dark pep talk, and, if he was being honest, he really wanted to know why Alastor named him something like that. It was an interesting choice for a name, especially for nineteen-thirty-two.

“Yes, that’s the name I chose.”

“Why?”

“...I assumed it was clever at the time.” Alastor shifted slightly on the bed, summoning his cane to his side.It seemed like a soothing thing to him, something to calm his nerves. Angel couldn’t judge. He, too, had his nervous tics. “The box that was recklessly opened only to release all of humanity’s evil, but also hope at the very end. I thought it was the perfect metaphor at the time,” he explained, while Angel listened intently. He did like the name Pandora, it was a nice name. Unfortunately, it was girl’s name, meant for a girl, and _he wasn’t a girl_. “Carrying a child brought me a lot of conflicting emotions and misery, especially due to heartburn and constant nausea, but it also made me realize a lot of things about myself. First and foremost, I was trans, as I’ve mentioned before. It also made me realize I was living my life for others, and not just myself.” Angel nodded, even though Alastor probably couldn’t see. It was funny that they were spilling their hearts out for each other now that they knew they were related. Was Alastor holding all of this inside on his own all along? There was a brief pause in his narrative. “In hindsight, naming my unborn child after allegory of a box that was the source of humanity’s greatest evils was not the wisest choice.” 

Upon hearing that, Angel began laughing. “I think it’s weird, but in an adorable way, you know? I liked the whole ‘evil box’ thing you had going, though.” He wasn’t lying. It was an interesting concept. It would’ve made for a much better story than ‘oh, yeah, my mom liked the name Madalena, plus she needed something to rhyme with Madeline because I was an unexpected surprise (but, as it turns out, not really)’.

Alastor chuckled. “Well, a twenty-one-year-old going through an identity crisis wasn’t going to be the best in the naming department, I’m assuming.”

" _Twenty-one_?” Angel asked, shocked. That was so young! Well, not that young to some people, but it seemed like Alastor wasn’t married not did he have the support he needed to raise a child, since he didn’t mention having a spouse of anything of the sort. The only family member he mentioned was his mother. Angel didn’t know what he’d do if he was twenty-one and expecting a child, with no one by his side but his own mom. He would definitely freak out, and maybe have a crisis, just like Alastor said he did. He had a lot of questions about all of this, especially certain parts, but asking about someone’s sex life, especially if that someone was his newly found father and someone who doesn’t seem like they like sex all that much, would be a terrible idea. However, there was one question he had that he thought was important. “Did… Were you, um, forced…?” he asked, instantly following it with, “You don’t have to answer if it’s a sore subject for you!” Angel wasn’t going to make Alastor answer his questions if they made him uncomfortable, no matter how curious he was about them. He wasn’t a monster!

“I wasn’t forced,” Alastor replied confidently, putting his cane in his lap. “I consented to it.”

“Really?” Angel was surprised. “You aren’t the most, I don’t know, ‘let’s have sex’ kind of guy.” He paused, a memory flashing before his eyes. “Oh my god, I’m having flashbacks of when I offered you a blowjob.” His face was burning as he covered his eyes in shame. He knew his ‘slutty porn star’ persona would get him in trouble someday, he just didn’t expect it to be _this_ way. Alastor let out a loud laugh, and Angel didn’t know whether to feel better or worse. “Can you please forget this ever happened?” he begged.

“I’ll be glad to,” Alastor replied, sounding amused. Ah, how the tables had turned. “As for your question… I had a coworker named Kenneth who had become one of my closest friends during my time as a helper on the studio. I had not transitioned yet, so I was still perceived as a woman at the time.” Angel winced. That had to suck, especially if it took Alastor that long to realize he was actually a man. “I had confided in him that I did not feel any kind of attraction at all, not even romantic. Kenneth, being the ‘smart’ man that he was, assured me that this was nothing more than a simple bother, and that it could be easily ‘fixed’.” _Oh, boy, I already know where this is going,_ he thought. That was _very_ familiar.

“Let me guess…” Angel already knew how this would end, and started feeling anger towards someone he didn’t even know. All that he knew was that he hated that guy. And it seemed like this guy was his biological father. Well, now he had two fathers to hate. “The cure was his dick.”

“...Yes, although I wouldn’t have described it… Like _that_. Well, he convinced me to try, and that I would enjoy it and ‘forget about not liking it’. And it was a two-for-one deal: he assured me he would be able to fix my lack of romantic attraction as well. Quite narcissistic, if you ask me, as his physical appearance was subpar at best. I was vulnerable and scared of being ‘broken’, so I went along with what he said. Safe to say, I did not enjoy it. However, at my discretion, I did not tell him to stop.” Angel didn’t know how to feel about this, but he was quite sure his emotions weren’t positive. Not because of Alastor, but because of Kenneth.

“...You know, someone doesn’t need to say ‘stop’ to revoke consent,” Angel said, feeling like he was talking to a teenager about having sex for the first time. It was kind of like that, though, since it seemed like Alastor only had sex once and never again. “There’s a lot that body language can say about sex. It’s called ‘enthusiastic consent’, and it sounds like you weren’t that enthusiastic about it.” For once, having basic knowledge about sex proved itself useful. He knew Alastor would never use this knowledge, ever, but it was at least good for him to know the burden did not fall solely on him.

“Huh.” Alastor seemed to be processing this information. “This is interesting, thank you.” They didn’t need to talk out loud to know they didn’t want to talk about this conversation. Instead, Angel decided to talk about something else. There was so much he wanted to know, he didn’t know if he would have time to ask about it all. He didn’t even know what time it was. “I see you still have questions,” Alastor finally said, breaking the silence. “Ask away.”

“When was I born?”

“Nineteen thirty-two.”

“No, I knew that,” Angel said. His year of birth had remained unchanged, then. “I mean, what day was I born in? I’m assuming it’s not the same day as my current birthday.” He shared a birthday with Molly. However, since they weren’t biologically twins, that means they probably didn’t share the same birthday. Doing some quick math, the chances of them actually sharing a birthday by chance was one in three-hundred and sixty-five, or 0.27%. It was a very low number.

“Oh, that's easy. You were born on the first day of September.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t August 20.” That meant he was younger than Molly by only eleven days. How ironic that she would always call him ‘little brother’, and it turned out to be right. “I did some calculations in my head, and the chances of Molly and I sharing a birthday turned out to be around 0.27%,” he started to explain, trying to fill in the silence. Angel loved talking about math. It was his favorite subject in school, and he still practices it occasionally. Probability was one of his passions, something that he hid from everyone because it didn’t fit his persona as the ‘dumb, reckless porn star’. However, Alastor had shared so much about himself that Angel felt like he needed to talk about himself too, to even things out. “I think that, even if we weren’t born on the same day, us being only eleven days apart is impressive, especially with a one in three-hundred and sixty-five chance.”

Alastor nodded, seemingly impressed. “You’ve very intelligent, Angel Dust,” he complimented, and Angel felt his heart beat faster. He wasn’t expecting that. “Why don’t you show that side more often?” There was no snark in his voice, only curiosity. He was being genuine. Angel tried to think of what to answer. It was very hard to explain.

“The industry doesn’t see intelligence as something worthwhile,” he explained, closing his eyes. Even being in his fluffy bed, surrounded by his covers, he didn’t feel tired anymore; he was wide awake, filled with questions about his and Alastor’s life. However, just by thinking about the Porn Studios, all of his energy was drained almost immediately. “If you’re sexy, then they see a potential money bag. If you’re sexy _and_ smart, then they see a money bag with an attitude that they will have to torture the shit out of. Compliance isn’t natural for most demons, but rather something instilled into us by the industry. It’s how you survive.” Angel liked his job, it was a good job, but he hated how he couldn’t act how he wanted. He always had to walk on eggshells around his boss. However, he could mostly act however he wanted when it came to his coworkers, which was nice. They all bonded over how insufferable their higher-ups were, and that made them all close friends.

“That doesn’t sound enjoyable at all.” Alastor’s reply was short and his voice seemed to have even more filters to it, as opposed to when the filter seemed to drop for a brief moment. Angel found it odd, but didn’t push it.

“That’s showbiz,” Angel replied with a shrug. He had seen a lot, so now this didn’t faze him much. Of course he would still wake up with the occasional nightmare due to the trauma, but it wasn’t _that_ bad, right? “Either you do as you’re told, or you become an example. Valentino knows a lot of things, but if there’s something he excels at, it’s knowing how to break each and every one of his employee in the most specific ways possible. He’s especially fond of the sassy ones. They’re his favorite playthings. He knows what triggers us and knows how to use that to his advantage very well.” Angel didn’t feel bad for saying that, because it was public knowledge. Everyone in hell knew how Valentino treated his employees.

Well, everyone but Alastor, apparently.

“What does he know about you?” he asked, seemingly trying to keep his voice even.

“Too much to mention in one go.” Angel tried to think of something more less sexual to use as an example. “I’m his ‘favorite’.” He felt dirty just saying that, but it was the truth. Everyone knew how popular he was, but they didn’t know it wasn’t really a good thing. To put it simply, it was hell (quite literally). “I make him the most money, and I’m the most popular amongst the crowd, so he shifts most of his focus to me. He also had eyes all over the studio, which means I have no peace or privacy. All of the things he knows about me came from those eyes, constantly watching my every move hoping to find a weak point. You see this tooth?” He opened his mouth and pointed to his golden tooth. Alastor leaned in closer for a moment, and narrowed his eyes, smile still in place. It made him look very menacing.

“I do see it.”

“Yeah, it’s not really a stylistic choice from my part. Val ripped out the real one after finding out I have a venomous bite.” The memories made Angel Dust shiver. He could remember Valentino’s hands on his mouth, and it made him nauseous. He just closed his eyes, pushed the feeling down, and continued his tale. “He did it to prove that he knows about it, and isn’t afraid to do whatever’s necessary to make sure I don’t turn against him. He said he’ll replace all of my teeth if I don’t behave.” It didn’t really seem like a big deal to him. Valentino was ruthless, of course, but this was usually how most businesses in hell ran. Perhaps he was a little more privileged to be a fan favorite, since that meant Valentino punished him less, as bruises during production would be terrible, especially since they had quality cameras.

When Angel opened his eyes again, he saw movement from the corner of his eye, around Alastor, but when he turned his head around, it was gone. “Ah, that must be terrible. I’m sorry you’re in such a position,” Alastor said, and this sentence was more genuine than most things Charlie had told him during her attempts to comfort him during her ‘mini-therapies’, which mostly consisted of her badgering him when he was angry or sad in his room.

“Thanks, Al,” Angel replied with a smile.

It seemed like that conversation had ended, or so he hoped. Alastor noticed his uneasiness in continuing the subject, so he decided to change the subject. Looking around the room for a bit, hoping to find something innocuous to comment on, he found a calendar next to the door. The whole month of November was circled hastily, probably with a red marker. “What’s going to happen in November?” Alastor decided to ask, hoping it wouldn’t be something grim again. While he personally loved grim things, it seemed like his son was much more vulnerable than he was.

“Something,” Angel answered vaguely.

“Would you care to be more specific?”

“It’s… It’s a Ragno thing,” Angel replied, crossing both his pair of arms uncomfortable. Alastor realized this, but he also really wanted to know what this ‘Ragno thing’ was. Angel seemed to have completely abandoned his identity as a Ragno considering their previous conversations, so why would he want to be involved in something that was about them?

“I thought your father had disowned you.” He only realized after he said it that this might’ve been a bad move.

Angel winced a little, but didn’t yell at him, nor did he start crying or end the conversation, which was what Alastor thought would happen, in that exact order. “Trust me, this is beyond my control.”

“...Are they forcing you to do it?”

“No!” Angel Dust said, incredulous. _Why is he defending them?_ Alastor thought, unable to comprehend the other’s train of thought. Henroin and Arackniss did not sound like nice family members from what he had heard with his microphone (although Molly was okay), so he couldn’t wrap his head around the thought of Angel not being on board with him mauling them to death. In fact, he was very surprised when Angel risked getting shot and suffering a permanent death for Henroin, someone who didn’t appreciate him and still treated him like the opposite gender. “It’s just…” Angel sighed, seemingly very tired (emotionally). “It’s a biological thing, okay? All ‘women’ of the Ragno family go through it, but I’d rather not talk about it because it sucks.” It was clear he was upset, even if he wasn’t yelling. Alastor decided to pick his battles and let it go, even if he wanted to know more. It was still unbelievable to him that he was talking to his own child, although one that he did not raise at all, and who had exactly nothing to do with him.

“Alright, then, I won’t pry,” Alastor responded.

“Thanks.” Angel was the one who decided to change the subject this time. “We should talk about something else.” He didn’t really have anything in mind, though.

“I agree.” Alastor nodded. “Do you have any hobbies?”

“Oh, um…” The spider demon replied, caught off-guard. He wasn’t expecting this question, and he wanted to give an answer that had nothing to do with his profession, because that’d just be weird and would definitely result in an awkward silence between them and no one wanted that. His thoughts wandered and he remembered something about him and his sister. “I like cooking, since it’s something Molly and I would always do together with my ma… um, _adoptive_ mom.” He felt a bout of anxiety just saying that word: adoptive. It was hard to admit his mom, the woman he admired a lot and who did so much for him, wasn’t biologically related to him. But biology didn’t matter, right? She was still his mother, the woman who raised him and loved him like he was her own... Then why was he still upset? “I also play a few instruments, but I’ve been playing the violin these past few years.”

“You play the violin?” Alastor asked, surprised.

“Yes!” Angel nodded enthusiastically. “I’m self-taught. I have a lot of time on the studio sometimes, so I thought I’d pick up a new hobby. I bought a violin online and started using some internet tutorials to teach myself how to play. I’d like to say I’m pretty decent.”

Alastor smiled. “I play the violin as well. It truly is a magnificent instrument.”

Angel smiled. It was nice to find some common ground between them. While they had this conversation, though, the two heard a knock on the door, and they froze on the spot, like deer caught in the headlights (how ironic). “Mister Dust!” It was their housemaid and cook, Niffty. She sounded as bubbly and energetic as ever. “Breakfast is ready! Miss Charlie asked me to come fetch you!” Angel Dust and Alastor exchanged glances. They couldn’t let her in, or else they’d be caught. Thankfully, it seemed like Niffty had some manners, since she didn’t just barge in right away. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen if they took too long enough to answer her, however. Angel’s heart was racing and he felt like he was going to faint. Why did this always happen when he was anxious? He hated the sensation of feeling so weak and helpless during high-pressure situations. He gave Alastor a look once again, wondering what they should do. Alastor used his head to point towards the door, and that’s when Angel remembered Niffty didn’t know _he_ was in their room. That only made things worse. She _couldn’t_ come in. This would make for a very awkward conversation, and he wasn’t prepared for that at all.

“Um, I’m coming, just give me a second!” he replied, trying to hide the anxiety in his voice, and seemingly failing miserably. He was just waiting for the cyclops to enter anyway.

“Okay!” After that, everything went quiet. 

Alastor’s deer ears twitched for a moment, as if he could hear something that Angel couldn’t (and he probably did, being a deer and all), before stilling. “She’s gone,” he announced after two seconds (that seemed to last an eternity) of nervousness. It seemed like everything was okay now. Angel Dust let out a sigh of relief upon hearing that. They really had to be more careful going forward, or else they would have to explain what was going on, and he really, _really_ didn’t want that to happen... At least not now. He knew they would have to let it out one day, as they couldn’t let keep up like this forever. His mother had taught him that all lies come out one way or another, so it was better to say the truth and suffer the consequences earlier than have a lie come out and suffer even more. This led him to one simple question:

“What are we going to tell the others about this?”

Alastor seemed intrigued by this. “Do you want to tell them?”

“Not really,” Angel admitted. “But they’re going to find out anyway. I’m a horrible liar.” He really was. When he was alive, Angel was amazingly terrible at telling lies, even white ones. He would always stutter and his face would burn in shame as his mother’s words echoed in his head. Going to hell made him get rid of this flaw really quickly, but it would occasionally appear when he was particularly anxious. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? “We should give it a few days, though, just to get used to… All of this.” He paused, and his eyes lingered to the five tests in his nightstand, displaying the color green proudly. He felt something in his chest upon seeing them, but couldn’t pinpoint what emotion it was. “What do we do with these tests?”

“I’ll get rid of them,” Alastor said nonchalantly. “All it takes is a quick _snap_!” And, with a snap of his fingers, the five tests were gone in a cloud of red smoke. Angel couldn’t help but be amazed every time he did that. He wished he had those kinds of powers. It would make his life so much easier (and he would probably end up being more lazy than usual). “I’ll be going to my room now,” the deer demon announced, standing up and shaking off some dust from his suit. “This way, we’ll cause less suspicion.”

“Okay.”

Instead of opening the door, Alastor used his shadow to teleport to the corridor (making sure there was no one on the other side before doing so, of course). Angel waited a minute, making sure Alastor was really gone, before letting out a long sigh, trying to process everything that just happened, and dropping back on his bed. He stood like this only for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, knowing he couldn’t just stay in bed. Charlie would probably end up knocking on his door herself if he didn’t go down to eat some breakfast, and he didn’t have enough energy to deal with that right now. He rose from his bed and went to the bathroom to look at himself in the mirror and maybe adjust his hair and makeup, and the first thing he saw was _pink_. There was pink _everywhere_. Henroin’s words came back to him all at once, and he shivered. It was okay, right…? Guys could still wear pink. It’s not like it was a color solely for girls. But what if…? No, this wasn’t right. Angel shouldn’t be wearing this. It only made him feel worse.

He would have to fix this.

**_. . ._ **

“Angel!”

Charlie put her glass of grape juice down to turn to Angel Dust, who had just entered the kitchen. However, once she did, she had to do a double take. For the first time in the seven months she had known him, he wasn’t wearing pink _at all_. Instead, he was wearing a loose blue off-shoulder sweater and white jeans. It looked almost _unnatural_ . Angel also looked tired, more than usual. There weren’t dark circles around his eyes (he always made sure to take care of them if he ever had any, and his makeup skills never failed to disappoint) and his fur wasn’t messy, but Charlie could feel an aura of exhaustion around him. She couldn’t explain it, she just _knew_. “I like your outfit!” she complimented, hoping he would explain his choice of clothing and why he chose to not wear pink on that particular day. Her thoughts then wandered to the night before. Had something happened? Alastor said he would come around in the morning. She was counting on that. Analyzing his fur, it seemed much brighter than the day before. That seemed like a good sign.

“Thanks,” Angel replied, and left it at that.

Charlie was slightly disappointed, but decided not to bother him. She didn’t want to make things worse. She just watched with concern as Angel Dust chose a random seat at the table (not that there were many left). Niffty was quick to serve him breakfast: scrambled eggs with bacon (which apparently was quite common on certain parts of Earth), and some orange juice. Charlie really wanted to ask more questions, but she was afraid of smothering or angering Angel further. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the point of view) for her, Crymini didn’t seem to have the same filter she had. “Okay, fuck you all with that politeness shit, I’m gonna ask: what the fuck’s with that outfit? You _never_ wear blue.” The breakfast table fell silent. Angel picked up a fork and stabbed the bacon rather harshly, which was uncalled for.

“I just wanna wear blue now, is that a crime?” he asked, voice filled with venom. He continued to poke the bacon with his fork, seemingly not intending to eat it anytime soon. Based on his voice tone, was clear he wasn’t joking around. Charlie really thought he would get better in the morning after getting a good night’s sleep, but it seemed like he was still depressed and having some severe mood swings. She wondered why that was, but really didn’t want to ask, especially since she knew what the answer would be. Crymini, however, seemed to lack the tact to understand when to quit bothering someone. Either that, or she didn’t care. One of these was more likely than the other.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Angel narrowed his eyes at her, and Charlie feared they were going to start physically attacking each other there and then. However, her saving grace came in the form of an amazing patron with a short temper for this type of thing. 

“That’s _enough,_ you two!” said Mimzy, turning everyone’s attention to her. “You’d better quit bickering before I use the _Miracle Touch_ to knock you two out.” She raised her index finger, which was sparkling slightly, as a warning. Everyone else exchanged glances upon the mention of the Miracle Touch. Mimzy never threatened to use it until either things got serious or she lost her patience with someone and wanted some peace and quiet. Either way, it was rare to hear such a threat, especially from her, one of the most patient patrons of the hotel (which was a title she held with high regard). However, unlike the others, Crymini did not seem as impressed.

“Oh, no, guys, watch out! She’s gonna put us to sleep! The horror!” she mocked with a grin. _Oh, she’s done it now,_ everyone collectively thought as they waited for Mimzy to send Crymini to the Nightmare Zone. Before this could happen, though, they heard a familiar voice from the entrance of the kitchen.

“It seems like I’ve arrived just in time!” announced Alastor as he made his way to the kitchen table. Niffty quickly arranged him a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon along with a glass of wine for him. Everyone always kept questioning _why_ Alastor would drink wine during breakfast, but there was never any solid conclusion to the mystery. “It seems like there’s already strife at the breakfast table. How rude! You could have at least waited for me. You all know how much I love a good show!” he exclaimed, making his way to the only seat left, besides Angel (once again). Charlie bit her lip, already predicting Angel would once again get uncomfortable and leave the table, leaving his breakfast behind, and using his work as an excuse. However, it seemed like the universe was hellbent on proving her wrong, because he stayed. In fact, it seemed like he had _relaxed_ a bit upon Alastor’s arrival. Charlie felt like she had entered a whole new dimension. Was she dreaming? When did _this_ happen? After he was seated, Alastor asked, very interested, “Now, what seems to be the problem?”

“Crymini is questioning Angel Dust’s choice in fashion,” Baxter helpfully supplied. Crymini scowled.

“Tattletale.”

“It got so bad I had to threaten to use the Miracle Touch to calm them down,” Mimzy said, taking a sip of her juice. “I never consented to living with _children_.” Alastor and Charlie did not miss the way Angel winced, and eyed his own plate of food instead. “Anyway, I’m probably not going to use the Touch if they behave, which is unlikely, but it’s worth a try.”

“Thank you for trying to keep the peace, Mimzy,” said Charlie with a smile, before deciding that it was time to change the subject to something else. “Now, I have some news for you guys!” Everyone quieted down to hear about it. Charlie was still the one who ran the hotel, after all, and if there were any changes they would want to hear about it. “I’ve thought a lot about it, and we _will_ be having group therapy. I believe it’ll be an opportunity to let our frustrations out.” _Because you really need it after seeing all of this,_ she finished in her head, not really being able to say something like this out loud. “It will be two hours long, every Tuesday and Thursday, at two in the afternoon. We chose those days since they don’t seem to coincide with your schedules outside of the hotel. And since today is Saturday, that means both you and have three days to brace yourselves, and I have three days to prepare the best first group therapy you’ve ever seen!” The only demon that seemed excited was Niffty (which wasn’t an accomplishment, as she got excited over pretty much anything), and the others received the news with hesitance.

“God fucking dammit,” Husk murmured under his breath while taking a long swig from his bottle of alcohol. That girl really didn’t listen to him, did she?

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mimzy asked after a moment of silence.

Charlie nodded eagerly, bouncing up and down like a child on Christmas day. “Definitely! I’m sure you will all enjoy it!” She couldn’t really promise that, but she was hopeful. Mimzy nodded, mildly amused at Charlie’s childlike enthusiasm.

“In that case, I’ll give it a shot.”

Baxter picked at his food for a while, as if scientifically analyzing it, before chiming in. “I believe the chances of collective therapy succeeding with this exact group of sinners is around 0.005%,” he replied, pulling out his calculator from his coat’s pocket. Did he just carry that thing around? No one would ever know. “Based on the compatibility of our personalities, and the likelihood that we would _not_ manage to somehow insult one another in any way or form, it seems like a recipe for disaster.” Crymini rolled her eyes upon hearing that. God, she was getting a headache just by being within a meter from that stupid scientist (especially since he could barely be classified as such, considering nothing he did was particularly helpful for hell’s science department).

“Shut up, nobody cares about your nerd rhetoric.” Baxter gave her an insulted glare.

“Don’t you two dare start fighting,” Vaggie warned, already at her wits’ end. When would those two ever quit it?

“I like the idea!” Niffty said, raising her hand politely and bouncing on her seat. It was adorable. Charlie smiled, happy that at least someone besides Vaggie approved of the idea.

“Thanks, Niffty.” She turned to the others, who were already bickering over this. “Guys…” The argument continued, despite her attempts to restore the peace again. “Guys.” Her voice tone was more serious this time, but they still did not stop. Taking a deep breath, she stood up abruptly and yelled in a deep, guttural voice tone, her long-hidden horns making an appearance once again, “ ** _G̡̡U҉̸̡͘͏Y͠S҉!̴͏͟_** ” She hadn’t even noticed the flames that surrounded her for a brief moment. She didn’t really have control over them depending on her mood, and, just like Vaggie, she was at her wits’ end. Everyone seemed to have stopped once Charlie revealed her demonic form, staring at her with wide eyes. Some of them had never even seen that side of her before, not having watched the news at the beginning of the year. Once everything had settled down, Charlie allowed herself to revert back to her friendlier form, and sat back down. “Look, I know this is a big change from our usual routine, but we need to do something. We can’t keep running from our troubles forever.”

“I’m pretty sure we can,” Husk replied noncommittally. “I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re an alcoholic,” Mimzy pointed out.

“I never said it was a good thing.”

“Some of you are very insistent on not sharing your troubles, it seems!” Alastor interjected with a laugh. Angel turned to him, interested, and this did not go unnoticed by the princess. What had happened yesterday for such a drastic change to happen? She would have to investigate. “Charlie, dear, I believe this is a great idea. I’m interested in how this will turn out.” Everyone was well aware that Alastor had said this was a good idea simply because he wanted to see the clusterfuck that the group therapy would eventually generate (it was inevitable). Chaos amongst the hotel’s patrons would mean more entertainment for him. Besides, Baxter was right. Logically speaking, there was a very low chance this would actually work. However, Charlie seemed to be persistent, and so everyone simply relented and let her have her way. They knew they wouldn’t be able to convince her, and, even if they tried, they weren’t willing to face Demon Charlie’s wrath. She was terrifying when she wanted to be.

Charlie was practically beaming with happiness. “Thanks, Al! You’ll attend too, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t miss this disaster for the world!”

“Um, great, I suppose!” Charlie replied awkwardly, still maintaining her usual smile. She didn’t really know what she expected. “That wasn’t really the answer I was waiting for, but I appreciate your enthusiasm nonetheless!” She turned to Vaggie and squealed as silently as she could, almost unable to contain her enthusiasm. The plan had worked almost perfectly (with the exception of the small fight that only lasted about ten seconds). Vaggie gave her girlfriend a sincere smile. For once, she was happy that Alastor had not messed this up, and also that Charlie was being more assertive when it came to their patrons. However, just like her, Vaggie had her eye on Angel Dust. She did not miss how he had been acting weird those past few days— more specifically, after their game night, four days ago. He had been behaving weirder than usual, which was an accomplishment for someone like him. And Vaggie also had her eye on Alastor. She would never really trust him. He was bad news; an overlord who didn’t care about anyone and only sought entertainment in exchange for the suffering of others. One way or another, he was going to betray them. She could _feel it_.

Speaking of the devil…

“Angel, stop picking your food,” Alastor scolded, watching as the spider demon played with his food, resting his head on one hand. Only after this was said did Charlie notice that Angel Dust hadn’t touched anything on his plate besides moving the scrambled eggs around and leaving stab marks on the bacon. Charlie waited for Angel to snap and simply leave the room, or use this as an excuse to go to work, but that’s not what happened. _Of course_ it didn’t. Nothing ever went the way she predicted it would.

“Stop picking on _me_ ,” Angel replied, and his answer was shockingly playful. There was no fear in his voice like before. It was like he was a completely different being.

“I am not picking on you,” Alastor replied, focusing on his own breakfast. He, too, seemed different. Instead of avoiding answering Angel like usual, or giving him a short reply, he seemed to only be slightly amused. “I’m simply telling you to have manners and eat your food.” At the mention of eating his food, Angel looked at his own plate like it had murdered his family in front of him. Charlie made a mental note of that. This very was suspicious _and_ worrying. Angel bit the inside of his cheek and picking up the scrambled eggs with his fork. He looked hesitant to eat it, and instead turned to the deer demon beside him once again.

“You’re mean, you know that?”

“I sure hope so! I did not gain my status as an overlord by being nice,” Alastor responded faux cheerfully, biting down on a piece of bacon. This was clearly meant to represent something. The others watched him with wide eyes and a little bit of fear (even if he couldn’t technically hurt them). It wasn’t every day that the Radio Demon, a menacing overlord, made a cannibalistic threat using bacon as an allegory, but Angel didn’t even blink. Instead, he rolled his eyes and ate his scrambled eggs silently, acting as if this was a punishment for everything he had ever done in life (and, in a sense, it sure felt like it). _Does he not like scrambled eggs?_ Charlie wondered, trying to figure out a logical reason for Angel to avoid them so much. Alastor seemed pleased upon seeing Angel eating, and returned to his own breakfast. Charlie looked at Vaggie, who also looked back at her, both exchanging knowing glances and sharing the same sentiment.

They would have to keep an eye on these two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, give me your theories on what you think it's gonna happen in November! It's gonna be important :D
> 
> Things are getting heated for Alastor and Angel. How long do you give them before one of them spills the beans? I'd give them four minutes, but then this fanfic would be boring lol. Also, Charlie sometimes uses her demon form when she needs to keep the patrons in line, but it's almost never, since Mimzy usually calms them down first. Speaking of Mimzy, also give me your theories on what the Miracle Touch, her special power (some demons in hell have certain powers, like Alastor with his voodoo stuff and Charlie with her fire powers), does. I've already given you a hint with the chapter :P
> 
> Next chapter will be really interesting, and I think you guys will like it a lot! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you all on Chapter 5!
> 
> EDIT: The title is named after "Doubt and Trust" by Access.


	5. Ambiguity avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie tries to gather some evidence that something has changed between Angel and Alastor's relationship. Meanwhile, everyone uses humor and mutual contempt as coping mechanisms during therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back!
> 
> Oh, how I wish I could've posted this on April 1st, but alas it was probably not meant to be. This chapter is very, VERY long, it was 22 pages on google docs. Probably because of the group therapy, it's long as heck. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and heed the "Everyone Needs Therapy: the fanfic" tag, because it's there for a reason.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: IMPLICATIONS OF ABUSE, MENTIONS OF PTSD, GENDER DYSPHORIA, DRUG ADDICTION, DADDY ISSUES, AND TRAUMA.

The first thing Vaggie saw when she entered her room was her girlfriend frantically pacing around.

Charlie took notice of her presence as soon as she walked through the door, and she seriously looked like she hadn’t slept in three days, even if it had only been a few hours since breakfast. Her hair was somewhat messy from her having twirled it so much (it was a nervous tic) and she was, once again, chewing on her nails, which Vaggie thought she had stopped doing. Charlie rushed to her girlfriend and put her hands on her shoulders, not even giving her time to process the situation. “Vaggie, have you noticed how weird Angel has been acting these past few days?” Vaggie nodded, still dazed by the way Charlie was acting. The princess didn’t even let her talk before continuing, heading back to the center of their shared room and pacing around relentlessly. “I’m thinking about asking Angel what happened.” She stopped walking, and turned back to Vaggie, putting her hands up as if she had been framed for a crime. “Not that I’m being nosy, though! I just want what’s best for my patrons, you know?” It was true. Charlie wanted Angel Dust to get better, and she couldn’t accomplish this if she didn’t know what was going on and what had happened. “This… This is a sensible train of thought… Right?”

“No, hon, it isn’t,” Vaggie replied without missing a beat, now feeling very concerned for Charlie’s mental health.

Charlie sighed, finally allowing her exhaustion to show. “I’m worried,” she admitted, avoiding eye contact and twirling her hair once again. Vaggie was glad she wasn’t biting her nails, at least (probably because she had no nails left to bite). “Angel was acting so strange a few days ago, always avoiding Alastor and all, but it was like today he did a complete one-eighty and went back to normal! Well, kind of, because he always flirts with everyone, and yet he hasn’t tried to proposition _anyone_ today!” Vaggie was going to say something, but Charlie continued her rant without even breathing. “Alastor changed, too! He always hated talking to Angel because of how flirty he was, and Alastor is, well, Alastor. He doesn’t like that sort of thing, even if he’s incredibly touchy with everyone else, which is uncomfortable. But Angel didn’t flirt with him once. _Once._ Don’t you think it’s strange? They’re now acting like they’ve always been best friends, and I can’t figure out why! I’ve been trying to think of reasons but my brain just short-circuits every time I try to think about it and… And…”

“Charlie!” Vaggie grabbed her girlfriend’s shoulders and shook her as gently as possible to snap her out of her possible mental breakdown. “Honey, you know I love you, but you seriously tend to overthink things. You look one word away from having a complete meltdown and I’m _not_ letting that happen.” She needed to make sure her girlfriend was okay, because she was clearly not. Why did she get obsessed so easily? Charlie looked at her with puppy eyes, and Vaggie knew what this meant. “I know you’re worried and curious and afraid. I am too, but I can’t let my life revolve around this, and neither should you… Look, if this is _that_ important to you, I’ll help you investigate after we have our shit together, and by this I mean the group therapy.” Once she mentioned helping Charlie with her little ‘investigation’, the princess’s eyes lit up like a child’s, and she immediately hugged Vaggie.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“No problem, hon,” Vaggie said with a fond smile. She loved Charlie so much. “Now, we should have been at the library five minutes ago. We need to finish reading those therapy books, remember?”

Charlie gasped. “That’s right! I almost forgot!”

“Yeah, good thing I was there to remind you.” Vaggie gestured towards the open door. “Come on, let’s go.” Her girlfriend nodded, almost skipping towards the door. It was during moments like these that reminded Vaggie of how vulnerable Charlie was, and how she needed to be protected. She was too caring to think of putting her own well-being over the patrons’. It was just one of the many things she was known for, and one of the many reasons Vaggie had fallen in love with her for. “While we’re at it, could you please explain to me what the plan for the group therapy is, because I sure as heck don’t know.” Charlie looked at her in confusion for half a second before bursting out laughing (yet another reason Vaggie had fallen for her), and proceeding to explain the plan in great detail, making hand gestures as well as sprinkling in some lessons she learned from the books she read. Vaggie listened intently, not wanting to miss anything. She would need to keep up if she wanted to maintain the peace during their biweekly meetings.

Vaggie was glad she had figured everyone’s schedules out, which meant that she wouldn’t have to stare at a calendar for eight hours, and instead could read some books. She had been interested in psychology in the past, so reading books about therapy wouldn’t be much of a challenge for her. Upon arriving at the hotel’s library, she walked up to Charlie’s desk and randomly took one of the books that had already been read and was sitting in a somewhat organized pile. Charlie had left the semi-messy pile of books there to make it easier for them to reread the books instead of having to find them all over again on the shelves. It saved some time. Charlie plopped down on her seat and picked up a book she was close to finishing. Vaggie decided to leave her alone for the moment and go to one of the other chairs spread around the library.

She had gotten so interested in her book about cognitive psychology she didn’t realize thirty minutes had already passed. It seemed like only five in her mind. She put the book down on her lap for a minute and her eyes landed on Charlie. The book the princess had been reading before was lying closed next to her while she was reading a new one, called ‘The science behind Familial Metamorphosis’. _She must have finished the other one already,_ Vaggie concluded. Familial Metamorphosis wasn’t even closely related to psychology (it could be, but even that was a stretch, since it was such a rare event), but Charlie seemed to have read all of the books about therapy that they had to read, and, since the Familial Metamorphosis was one of her everlasting interests (it had been since she was a child, in fact), Vaggie thought it would be good for her to relax and take her mind off Angel Dust and Alastor and their weird behavior. Smiling a little, Vaggie resumed reading her book.

“Hey, Vaggie,” Charlie called after a few minutes, standing up and stretching a bit, book still in hands. “I’m going to get a glass of water, ok?” Vaggie raised an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you just call Niffty?”

“I want to stretch my legs a bit. I’ve been sitting in this chair for half an hour.” This was a reasonable explanation. Vaggie nodded, and continued with her study. Charlie smiled, hugging her book to her chest (she wanted to keep reading it while walking), and left the library. They were on the second floor of the hotel, so she would have to pay attention to the stairs. Thankfully, she knew that place like the palm of her hand, including all the steps necessary until she had reached the stairs. She continued reading her book, almost like a moth attracted to a flame (heh), and for a brief moment didn’t realize she had reached the living room until she heard something: a voice. Now, it would be normal to hear voices coming from the living room, since this was a hotel, after all, but this wasn’t just anyone’s voice, but none other than Angel Dust’s voice. He wasn’t talking, however. He was humming a song quietly under his breath. Thankfully, her hearing was outstanding (all of her senses were unnaturally enhanced if she wanted them to be, one of the perks of being the princess of hell).

Peeking from around the corner, she saw that Angel Dust was sitting on the couch, legs crossed (one of them was bouncing), and had his phone in his hand. Was he texting someone? That probably didn’t matter, and she shouldn’t get involved. He seemed… Normal…? He looked happier, and more carefree, just like he had always been. His fur was colored a bright pink and shiny, instead of matted and tinted in a dull pink, like it had been before. The new clothes even suited him a bit. Charlie felt a bit of relief upon seeing that, like a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders, even if it plagued her that she didn’t know what made Angel so nervous and depressed in the first place. No, she wouldn’t just stand there and just think about it anymore. She was going to actually _walk up to him_ and ask Angel Dust about those events, hoping he was in a better mood and would humor her questions. However, before she could actually do this, Charlie heard a very familiar voice come from the kitchen.

“Angel!” It was Alastor. Charlie’s fight, flight or freeze instinct was activated, and she chose the last option. She held her breath, hoping to not catch his attention. She knew how sensitive Alastor’s deer ears were to sounds. “What are you doing?” His voice was filled with curiosity, instead of pseudo-politeness, like usual.

Angel looked up, and smiled, putting his phone down for a moment. “Ah, I’m just looking up some music sheets to play on the violin.” _He can play the violin?_ Charlie asked herself, surprised. She never really imagined Angel would be the type to play such an instrument, or any instrument at all, but it just showed that she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Charlie was also interested on the fact that he said he was looking for music sheets online. She wanted to hear him play now, just to see how good he was. He probably was pretty good, if he could read the sheets and play at the same time. She always found it rather difficult to focus on both at the same time, and she had been taught to play the violin since she was young. Just like her, Alastor also seemed slightly surprised, but he didn’t question Angel’s ability to play the violin. It was almost as if he knew about it already...

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Oh?”

“Yeah, our talk this morning made me realize I want to play the violin again.” ‘Our talk this morning’? What did this mean? Since when had Angel and Alastor had a talk? And why were they talking about Angel’s ability to play the violin? Charlie was so confused, yet intrigued. She felt it was wrong to eavesdrop (it wasn’t a good thing to do, after all), but she really needed answers, and she couldn’t help those two if she didn’t have more information.

“How nice,” Alastor replied, and he actually sounded genuine instead of saying empty pleasantries like any cordial overlord. He summoned his cane, and let it slide down his hand and hit the ground (Charlie noticed it seemed like a nervous tic to him, just like she had her own tics). “I might have a few suggestions, if you don’t mind.” She felt like she had walked into another dimension by mistake. What was happening? Alastor never seemed to talk to Angel more than necessary, especially due to his touchy and flirty nature, but now he was actively engaging in a conversation with him like he would with Husk or Niffty, and he knew those two more than he knew Angel. Speaking of which, the spider demon hadn’t spoken a single innuendo or pick-up line ever since this entire conversation started, which was awfully out-of-character for him. It was almost bizarre watching them talk so casually with each other, like two best friends catching up after two weeks of not seeing one another.

Angel chuckled. “You want me to play old people music?”

Alastor made an offended noise, which Charlie had to admit was pretty funny (she had to keep quiet, though, so she laughed internally). “They’re not _that_ old!” he said with faux hurt, putting a hand on his chest to represent that. It was clear that he was joking, though, which made everything that much weirder. Would Alastor joke like this with anyone else? Maybe. But with Angel? It was unlikely. The spider demon rolled his eyes, picking his phone up again.

“Sure thing.”

“What were you going to play, then?”

“I’m not sure,” Angel said. “Maybe a few songs from some movies, or my favorite bands, or even musicals I like. The possibilities are endless!” His smile was sincere, and Charlie swore she had never seen him smile like that to anyone. There was always an aura of forced cheerfulness coming from Angel, almost as if he needed to keep up this type of persona up at all times. However, now he seemed to have allowed himself to behave normally, with no filters. Charlie always expected an unfiltered Angel Dust to act more improperly, but this was much nicer. He was also acting very mature, a nice change of pace from his lewd jokes and violent behavior. Charlie still wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t walked into an alternate dimension, though, because this wasn’t normal at all. Alastor remained silent for a moment, before moving to sit next to Angel. Well, that was _even less_ normal.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me how well you can play the violin,” Alastor said. Charlie didn’t know if he was asking or demanding. Knowing him, it was likely the latter. 

“I don’t know if you noticed, but my violin’s not here,” Angel responded, seemingly unfazed by Alastor being so close to him. Alastor also didn’t seem bothered by being too close to someone else either, especially Angel. That wasn’t uncharacteristic of him, though, since he always seemed very touchy with everyone else while hypocritically hating being touched. “I left it in the studio.”

Alastor snapped his fingers, and a violin simply appeared in his lap with a cloud of red smoke. No matter how many times he did this, it would always surprise Charlie. However, what surprised her the most was what he said next. “You can use mine.” He was _sharing_ his things with Angel Dust? This wasn’t a regular occurrence. She would have to write all of this down when she returned to the library. Thankfully her notebook, the one she used to take notes, was still where she had left it, because she was too tired to move it at the time. God bless her laziness.

Angel carefully took the violin from Alastor’s hands and analyzed it, running his gloved hands through the wood, eyes gleaming. “Wow, this is a beautiful violin.” He then turned to Alastor, looking uncertain. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Alastor replied. “I trust you to be careful with it.” _Alastor, trusting Angel to be careful with something?_ Charlie thought, hugging her book even tighter to her chest. _That’s it, I’m hallucinating. I’m having a very vivid hallucination, maybe because of the scrambled eggs. I’m probably having some weird sort of sleep paralysis right now._ Still, even if that was true (which it probably wasn’t), she listened intently, determined to find more information she would be able to use to her advantage. God, it felt weird to think that, like she was some sort of manipulator trying to get some dirt on her victim. She wasn’t, though! She was the hotel’s owner, and was genuinely concerned with one of her patrons. That was a good reason to eavesdrop on their very private conversation, right? _Right?_

Angel looked at the violin, and then at Alastor. “Okay…”

He stood up, positioning the violin on his shoulder, and testing the strings to check if they were tuned. After confirming that they were (it shouldn’t have been a surprise, as Alastor took good care of them), he closed his eyes and began playing one of the songs he knew from memory alone (which were only a few). Charlie braced herself, wondering what kind of song he would play, because she was very curious. Would it be classical, or maybe from a musical, like he said before? She didn’t have to wonder for long, though, because he had already begun to play. And, when he did, Charlie felt like she would cry there and then. This was the most beautiful song she had ever heard come from a violin. Angel played it with precision, like he had been doing it for centuries just like she had. She could feel the emotion coming from the song, the bittersweetness. Charlie really wanted to just record Angel playing this to hear for all eternity, but she didn’t have her phone with her either. Unfortunately, all good things eventually came to an end, and this song was no different. She knew the tune would be stuck in her head for weeks, though, and she didn’t really mind. “How was that?” Angel asked.

“Are you sure you’re self-taught?” Alastor asked. Charlie almost choked on her own spit. Angel was self-taught?! The world just wasn’t fair sometimes.

“Pretty sure,” Angel replied with a smile. “I’ll take this as a compliment.”

“It is one. Pardon my curiosity, but where is this song from?”

“I’d tell you, but then Crymini would materialize here out of thin air and choke me to death,” Angel replied cryptically, which did not make things any better. Charlie was slightly disappointed. She really wanted to know the name of that song, because then she’d be able to listen to it instead of having it stuck on her head. She could ask Angel later, but that would involve having to confess that she was eavesdropping on him, and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Alastor seemed curious about Angel’s answer, but didn’t pry. Charlie started feeling a bad feeling, like her instincts were telling her something, and she only knew one thing.

It was time to go.

Being as silent as she could, Charlie made her way upstairs, no longer caring about her drink. This was more important than hydration. After she made her way to the first floor, she started running, seeing as she now was out of Alastor’s hearing range. She tried not to barge into the library to not arouse suspicion or scare Vaggie, who was still concentrating of the book she had first picked up. Charlie bit her lip at the sight, and began to think while heading towards her own desk. She wanted to tell Vaggie what happened, but she was sure that her girlfriend either wouldn’t believe her or would still be concerned that she’s obsessing over these ideas again. Charlie didn’t want Vaggie to worry about her. However, she wasn’t going to keep this a secret forever. When she gathered enough evidence, she would show Vaggie and she would have no reason to not believe her! It was the only logical solution, of course! Charlie picked up her small notebook and one of her favorite pens. She put her book down, and stared at the cover for a brief moment.

Suddenly the intricacies of the Familial Metamorphosis didn’t seem as appealing.

She racked her brain in order to remember the conversation that just took place. Thankfully, it had only been a few minutes, so it was still freshly imprinted in her mind. She tried to write it down word-for-word, but some words slipped her mind and she had to use synonyms. This probably wouldn’t be a big deal. After that was done, she decided to write down some facts that she discovered about Angel Dust and Alastor. For example, Angel Dust knew how to play the violin, and he was self-taught (which was a shocker). Alastor had a violin, which implied he also knew how to play the violin to some degree. She tried to remember how the violin looked, because every detail was important in this puzzle. It looked vintage, well taken care of, and _very_ expensive (thankfully her mother loved violins, so she knew this information like it was second nature). It didn’t seem like he would lend this to just everyone, so why Angel? Something must’ve happened while he picked up Angel yesterday. Or even today! Angel did mention that they had a talk that morning, which she hadn’t been aware of, so anything could’ve happened during that as well.

Charlie was so focused on her work that she didn’t even notice her girlfriend was trying to get her attention, and had already called her name twice. “Charlie!” Vaggie called, and Charlie turned to her, eyes wide. Had she been discovered? “Hon, are you ok?” Charlie panicked internally. Should she tell the truth? Should she lie? She didn’t want to tell anything to Vaggie until she had concrete proof of all this, because she didn’t want to come off as a crazy stalker (even though she probably would sound like one anyway). She didn’t even notice she was spacing out until Vaggie hesitantly asked, “Charlie?” She blinked, snapping out of it. She really needed to stop doing this.

“Huh? Oh, yes, I’m just peachy! Why do you ask?”

“You’re not reading your book anymore, and you’re frantically writing things down… _Again_.” Was she really this transparent? Nah, maybe Vaggie was just used to her quirks at this point. She needed a good answer now. What would it be, though? Instead of thinking things through, Charlie decided it would be a good idea to just let her mouth run on its own, saying whatever it wanted.

“Oh, um, I’m just, you know, taking some notes.” _Lie it is, then,_ she thought nervously, thankful that at least she wasn’t sweating. “You never know what’s going to be important, heh…” Vaggie didn’t seem convinced at all, but knew she was fighting a losing battle, so it was best to just leave Charlie be for the time being. She would ask her again later and hope that her girlfriend would cooperate more.

“If you say so...” And she went back to reading her book. Charlie sighed in relief. She would have to be more careful if she wanted to keep this under wraps. She couldn’t let Vaggie find out what she was doing. Not yet, at least. She needed more proof. Right now, she only had that one conversation to analyze, and there wasn’t much that she could do with it. The song Angel played once again made its way to her head, and she relaxed a bit. She really, really wanted to ask Angel what song it was, but it would do no good. She could lie and say she was passing by when she heard it, but that would also raise a few questions she wasn’t really willing to answer. It seemed like Charlie would only ever be able to hear the song in her head, at least until Angel was ready to play it to the public, which probably wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. She wasn’t even supposed to know he played the violin in the first place! But she was helping him, right? If she knew more about Angel, she would know what happened, and would know how to help him. Yes, this was a good reason. 

It was for his own good.

**_. . ._ **

After a few hours had passed, Charlie decided to go down for a snack and water. She really needed hydration, or she would pass out at any minute now.

Taking her book with her (it was more of a comfort object at this point), she made her way downstairs, humming the song Angel had played on the violin under her breath. Walking into the kitchen, she put the book on the kitchen table and grabbed herself a glass of water. God, it was so refreshing. Drinking cold water while thirsty was one of the best sensations in the world, and Charlie felt like she hadn’t drunk anything in weeks. She also decided to grab one of the chocolate cookies Niffty had made as a small snack. Actually, she would pick two. Vaggie was probably also a little bit hungry. While leaving the kitchen, she spotted Angel Dust sitting on the counter of the front desk (which was also a bar). He wasn’t drinking, though, just casually scrolling through his phone, which made Charlie wonder if he was still looking up music sheets. She felt herself tense up. She wasn’t even supposed to _know_ this information, but she did. It didn’t matter, though, because Angel was alone (Husk was nowhere to be seen, surprisingly), which meant she could now interrogate him on the events that occurred these past few days. This was her chance! Shoving the two cookies into her mouth and hastily swallowing them (something she immediately regretted), she made her way to him, attempting to act natural.

“Hey, Angel!” she greeted, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Hey, Charls,” Angel replied, using his nickname for her. Charlie found it cute.

“So…” She paused for a moment, realizing one thing: she didn’t _know_ how to bring the subject up. She really, _really_ needed to think things through before acting. God, why was the so stupid? Charlie decided it was best to do what she did earlier: just let her mouth talk, and try to act like she was still in control. If it worked for Vaggie, who was better at noticing when she was making stuff up, surely it would work on Angel Dust, right? “At breakfast this morning I couldn’t help but notice how you seemed to look better, and I’m very happy for you!” This wasn’t a lie, at least. She had been so relieved. But this wasn’t the time to talk about that, she had more pressing matters to attend to. “Anyway, I have come to realize that you and Al have gotten a little… _Closer_.” This was phrased rather awkwardly, but it was the intentions that mattered. Yes, this was going very well so far. She just hoped she hadn’t given herself away about the spying. That would surely be a disaster;. Charlie waited for Angel’s response, all while analyzing his body language to see how he would physically respond to the question. What she found out was really interesting. She noticed how his eyes widened, and his grip on his phone tightened ever so slightly. This was all very suspicious.

Angel broke into a cold sweat. _Fuck_ . “Oh, actually, um…” He internally scolded himself for stuttering like an idiot, but it wasn’t really his fault. He was caught off-guard, and he never did well in high-pressure situations. “We found out we have, um, a lot in common.” _Like our genes,_ he finished mentally, hoping Charlie couldn’t read his mind. Thankfully, she couldn’t. Instead, she seemed to have gotten very excited, and started bouncing on her toes.

“Really? I’m so happy for you two!” _She is too innocent for this world,_ Angel concluded. “How did that happen? What do you two have in common? I have so many questions!” Angel was going to open his mouth to deflect all of the answers and try to find an excuse to leave as soon as possible, but he couldn’t find anything to say. He was too panicked to think about any sort of reason he would have to just dash out of there to have an anxiety attack in the shower. However, if there was one thing he knew about Charlie, it was that she was excitable and easily distracted. All he needed was a distraction. While she still asked questions at an incredible speed, he looked around, and his eyes landed on the book she was holding. ‘The science behind Familial Metamorphosis’? It sounded complicated and boring, and it was _perfect._ He didn’t know what that was about, but it did look like the best distraction he was able to find at the moment, besides telling her there was someone behind her and fleeing (which was stupid).

“Hey, toot, what’s this book about?” he asked, pointing to the book. He hoped his voice didn’t sound too anxious, and instead more natural. Thankfully, Charlie fell for the bait, forgetting all about the questions she had asked in favor to ramble about her favorite book with the biggest smile on her face. It was adorable, really.

“Oh, right! This is a book about the Familial Metamorphosis! It’s a super rare phenomenon here in hell! Did you know there’s only one case per year? Crazy, right?! Well, it involves…” That’s when Angel started to tune out her voice, thinking of ways to escape this nightmare of a situation. He wasn’t prepared to tell her about this. He hadn’t even talked to Alastor about it yet! He felt like he could trust Alastor an okay amount, even if it wasn’t much. Was their behavior really this obvious? He would need to tell the deer demon to tone it down too. His saving grace, however, came in the form of a text message. He didn’t need to pick his phone up to know it was his boss, Valentino, who was probably demanding he go back to work. His work hours weren’t as demanding on Saturdays, but it seemed like the overlord still wanted him in the studio. As much as Angel Dust disliked talking to Valentino, or even being near him, he couldn’t help but silently thank him for texting him at that exact moment. It bought him some time to think. He unlocked his phone and read the message. He _was_ right. Valentino wanted him back at the studio, and the text was coated with fake sweetness, as usual. 

This was bad news.

“Sorry, Charls, I have to go,” he explained, standing up, and trying not to think too much about what was coming for him. “Boss is calling.” Charlie was going to open her mouth to say something, but Angel Dust was already walking out the door. Before she knew it, he was gone. The princess stood there for a second, trying to process what just happened. _I missed my chance,_ she thought sadly, before smiling again. No, this wasn’t going to deter her! She would just have to keep asking until he answered. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

She was going to get to the bottom of this.

**_. . ._ **

It was late in the afternoon when Alastor heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” he asked, not looking up from his book.

“It’s Angel...”

Alastor had been sitting on a comfortable chair while reading a book from the library. The radio on his nightstand had been turned on, a soothing tune coming from it. It was the perfect atmosphere, and he was almost at the end of the book’s chapter, but then Angel Dust came knocking on his door. Any other day, he would’ve told the spider demon to leave him alone (in a polite yet threatening way, of course), but he could feel a hint of hesitance and fear coming from the spider’s voice, like it wasn’t his choice to be there in the first place. Besides, the air between them had been rather weird ever since that morning, as they still didn’t know what to consider each other. Standing up, putting his now dog-eared book on where he had been sitting, and using his powers to turn the radio off, Alastor adjusted his suit and picked up the keys to his room, swiftly unlocking the door. When he opened the door, Alastor felt his natural static to a record scratch sound. Angel’s fur looked disheveled, he had scratch marks all over him, and he was staring at the ground instead of making eye contact. “Angel—” Alastor started, but he didn’t have time, because his son interrupted him.

“Charlie’s onto us.”

And, well, that did sound a bit more urgent.

Alastor stepped aside, allowing Angel to enter his room, and then closing the door behind him. It would be no good if other demons tried spying on them. Now, it would’ve been natural for Angel Dust to look around and be curious about everything, since he had never been to the Alastor’s room before, but that didn’t happen. Angel kept staring at the ground, hugging himself and trying to make himself as small as possible, which was quite a feat considering how tall he was. Something had clearly happened while he was locked in his own room, but he thought it wouldn’t be a nice question to ask in a moment like this. Besides, they had more pressing matters to attend to right now. “What do you mean?” Alastor asked. Why would Charlie be onto them? That didn’t sound like her at all… Actually, it _did_ sound her a little bit. That girl could be very persistent when she had her mind set to something. Angel started pacing around, looking very troubled. This seemed to affect him more than Alastor, and _he_ actually had a reputation to keep! Speaking of which, he still hadn’t looked Alastor in the eye once, and the radio demon was curious and a little concerned as to why that was.

“I don’t know. She cornered me earlier today and started asking why you and I were acting closer than normal,” he explained, still maintaining solid eye contact with the carpeted floor. “I think she might find out if we don’t act like we used to around each other.” Alastor nodded. Perhaps berating Angel for picking his food during breakfast wasn’t the best choice, even if it was in-character for him. Angel was right. They needed to be more careful. “What do we do?” For the first time, they exchanged glances, and Alastor noticed how lost Angel seemed to be. That didn’t seem to be about Charlie, though. Angel looked like he had escaped worse situations and come out okay, considering he was still alive (well, as alive as a demon could be). No, this was definitely about something else, but this wasn’t the time to focus on that.

“Just like you’ve said before, we need to try and act like we have before these unexpected developments happened,” Alastor replied, also pacing around a bit. Could this be a hereditary trait? They would probably never know. “You need to act more flirtatious again, and I’ll try and act annoyed. Not like it wouldn’t be very hard.” Angel’s disgust was nearly palpable.

“I can’t flirt with you.”

“You can flirt with Husk and Baxter, though,” Alastor suggested. Angel’s boisterous personality was easy to recognize and hard to miss. It was his whole brand. It was also very noticeable when he no longer tried to hit on anyone. It’s like seeing a painting every day, and slowly noticing over time that the painting was suddenly flipped upside down. Angel was that painting, and his personality had turned around too abruptly for everyone to not catch up. They had started noticing, and Charlie was the first one to audibly question it. It wasn’t like he should be surprised, though. The princess was very empathic, and could feel when others weren’t okay. No wonder she would notice that Angel Dust, her star patron, wasn’t being himself. They needed to fix this as soon as possible, or else there would be trouble. He couldn’t flirt with Alastor, yes, because that sounded terrible in paper and practice, but he could still flirt with the other male demons in the hotel. It wouldn’t be that big of a difference if Alastor was no longer being hit on, right…?

“But I can’t! What if I’m suddenly related to them too?” Angel asked, brushing a hand against his hair. Alastor raised an eyebrow. Okay, something was clearly wrong here. Angel was much smarter than this.

“Angel, this is a ridiculous assumption and you know it.”

“I’m paranoid now,” Angel replied, looking at his own shoes. Alastor sighed.

“I acknowledge what you are going through, Angel,” he said, approaching the spider demon. It did not go unnoticed by Alastor how the younger demon flinched when approached. That was rather… Troublesome, to say the least. “Finding out you’re adopted and have been lied to your whole life must’ve been really hard for you, and, although I don’t understand what you are going through, I know that you’re suffering the consequences of my actions, and for that I sincerely apologize.” Angel opened his mouth to say that it _wasn’t_ his fault, but Alastor didn’t give him time to do anything. “ _However,_ if you do need someone to talk to and let your frustrations out, or just someone to keep you company, just know that my door is always open to you.” Angel stared at him for a moment, processing the situation, before allowing a tiny smile to make its way to his lips. That was very generous of him. Besides, it did sound nice and honest.

“Thanks, Al.”

“No problem.” Angel felt the room’s temperature drop when Alastor’s eyes suddenly turned into radio dials and he tilted his head ever so slightly, his creepy smile giving him a pseudo-innocent look. “Now, my dear, won’t you be kind enough to tell me who did this to you?”

**_. . ._ **

The day had finally arrived!

Charlie had been impatiently waiting until the clock hit two in the afternoon, and was ecstatic as the patrons slowly filled the room she had prepared especially for the group therapy. "Alright, why don't we introduce ourselves?" she asked as soon as everyone had sat down, holding a clipboard with a pen attached. She also decided to wear a pair of glasses (even if she didn't need them) to give her more of an 'I’m intelligent and profession but also care about your feelings' look, like a psychologist. She had seen it on a movie once and it seemed to work for the other patients, so why not? After she asked the question, everyone in the room exchanged glances with each other, still not saying anything. Charlie hadn't really planned for that. She didn't have a specific schedule of how this would go down. She just knew the bare minimum about psychology, a lot of weird facts about Sigmund Freud and his mom, and how to make someone hold objects for you while you talk to them. After five seconds of uncomfortable silence, someone finally spoke up.

"Alright, I'll bite. My name's Angel Dust and I've got some wicked daddy issues," said Angel, crossing his arms. Charlie felt like she had been hit by a train. She wasn't expecting that... But it wasn't unwelcome either. Someone was speaking up, and that was good. She could work with that. Writing the information down on her clipboard (using more appropriate wording), she turned to Angel with a pleased smile.

"That's great, Angel!" The spider demon raised an eyebrow. "Not the daddy issues, of course! But that you're opening up. It's important that we trust each other with our innermost secrets."

Angel just shrugged, leaning against his chair. She had organized all of the chairs in a circle, because that's how it worked on every therapy movie ever, therefore it had to work here. "My life's already a dumpster fire that has gotten way out of hand and that not even the ocean will be able to put out, so a bunch of losers knowing my 'innermost secrets' won't be life-ruining or anything," Angel Dust nonchalantly explained, and Charlie hesitantly wrote that down too. She didn't know exactly what she had to write and what she didn't have to, but it was probably important. She wondered if anything Angel would say would help her figure out her other problem involving him and Alastor? She would have to keep a closer eye on him during this session, and write everything he spoke, then compare notes. It wasn't that big of a deal. Charlie was so enthralled by this idea that she didn't even realize a fight was at the verge of breaking out during the first two minutes of her first attempt at a group therapy.

"Who you calling a loser, you ass?" Crymini asked, menacingly baring her sharp canine teeth. Angel wasn't fazed by this, and just rolled his eyes at her.

"Let's not beat around the bush here. You're all losers in some way, shape, or form," he explained with a devious smirk. "The only person in a fifteen-mile radius who has her shit together is Vaggie, and even that is a stretch." It was only then that Charlie noticed the tense atmosphere, and how Crymini was glaring daggers at Angel Dust. She sighed internally. Why did this always have to happen? And why now? She had to intervene.

"Um—"

Angel then turned to her. "Sorry, Charlie, but you also have daddy issues, so that instantly disqualifies you as a non-loser. I'm sorry to have to break it to you." Charlie felt her face burn a little. How did Angel even know that?

"That's... That's not what I was going to say... I think we should avoid insulting each other during group therapy." Trying to keep the peace between six demons proved itself to be a bigger challenge than she anticipated, especially since they were trapped in a room together, and hated each other. It was becoming exhausting, and she hadn't even started yet. Still, Charlie had to persevere. It wasn't time to give up yet. "It's counterproductive to push each other down. Instead, we should strive to build one another up! Teamwork is always the best medicine!" They all fell silent once again, and Charlie wondered if she said something wrong. That's when Baxter broke the silence with:

"Factually incorrect. I have never seen teamwork cure any sort of disease."

Charlie resisted the urge to chuckle. The point had flown so hard above his head that it might as well have gone to heaven. "Uh, I wasn't saying it literally, Baxter... It was more of a motivational speech." Baxter nodded, still looking unsure. She decided to bring back the focus to what really mattered: the group therapy. "So... Who else wants to introduce themselves?"

Baxter raised his hand before putting it down. "Since I am already talking, I might as well go. My name is Baxter, and according to my calculations, which might be slightly imprecise as I do not have my calculator with me at the moment, this has a 75% chance of failure due to the antagonistic and secretive nature of most sinners." Angel raised an eyebrow, and began muttering something under his breath. Niffty, who was sitting to his right, looked at him with curiosity, but didn't say anything. Charlie, ever the optimist, wasn't fazed by this, and just smiled.

"That still leaves a 25% chance, which is a pretty big number! Anyone else?"

Crymini scoffed and rose her hand, before introducing herself. "The name's Crymini and I'm here to take names and kick ass." Angel Dust stifled a laugh.

Charlie looked a little bit uncomfortable now (as it seemed like no one was taking this seriously), but wasn't deterred. "Oh, well, there won't be any ass kicking here, seeing as it won't be beneficial to your redemption, but I'm sure we can put that energy to good use on something else!" She had predicted that sort of thing. It would be hard to manage everyone else and their usage of inappropriate words, but it was decent progress for her first day as a group therapist so far. Two people had managed to introduce themselves! That was great! Someone else raised their hand, and Charlie’s eyes landed on Mimzy. “Yes, go on!” she encouraged. Mimzy dropped her hand on her lap.

"Uh, my name's Mimzy,” she introduced herself, sounding like she had better things to do than this but was too polite to turn down the invitation. “Can I ask why Vaggie and Alastor aren't here?" Everyone looked around. Indeed, Vaggie and Alastor were missing, and two chairs sat there, empty. They all turned to Charlie for answers. If those two could escape therapy, why couldn’t the rest of them do the same? It was unfair.

"Good question! They are dealing with paperwork at the moment, but they will be joining us shortly,” Charlie explained, writing something down on her clipboard. She had almost forgotten to write about what Crymini had said. Speaking of which, the canine scoffed upon hearing that, crossing her arms. She wasn’t too pleased to be there, and it showed.

"Lucky them."

"What about you, Husk?” Charlie asked, putting the clipboard down and adjusting her glasses. How did other demons use these? They were a pain to keep still. “Is there anything you'd like to say?" Everyone turned to the only demon who was drinking alcohol in the room (Charlie knew trying to keep him away from his booze was a losing battle, so she left it be), looking like he wanted to grab that bottle and smash it on his own head.

"As much as I'd love to tell all of the bleeding hearts in this room all of my fucked up thoughts and problems, I am too busy at the moment not giving a shit,” he explained, taking a long swig from his bottle of cheap booze. “Now, if you excuse me, I'll keep drinking my issues away in hopes that I'll become blackout drunk and maybe not remember this evening." And that’s exactly what he did. Charlie hesitantly wrote this down. Okay, so maybe things _weren’t_ going as well as she thought. That was okay! She could fix this. And she could also maybe help Husk realize that therapy wasn’t so bad, and opening up would be beneficial to him. She wrote what he said down while he drank more of his booze. How he hadn’t drunk the whole bottle in two minutes, nobody knew. Maybe it was a magic bottle? If Alastor had anything to say about it, it might as well have been. After writing everything down, Charlie put her clipboard on her lap and continued to ask other people to volunteer, putting on her ever-so-cheerful persona.

"Okay then! Anyone else?"

A certain cheerful cyclop raised her hand, bouncing up and down in her seat (which she had barely managed to climb). "I'm Niffty! I like cleaning stuff. And men. I love men." _God, she is thirsty,_ everyone thought. Charlie wrote it down. Meanwhile, Angel chuckled.

"Don't we all?" he asked.

Crymini replied, "Speak for yourselves. Women are much more beautiful and elegant than… _Men._ " Charlie raised an eyebrow, but wrote this down. At this point, she wasn’t sure which information was relevant and which one wasn’t, so, as a precaution, she wrote everything down. Better safe than sorry, right? However, it seemed like things were, once again, getting out of hand, and, once again, the instigators were the same two demons that had almost started a fight in the first place. She would have to intervene if she didn’t want Angel and Crymini to have another battle of ‘who can hurt each other the most with words instead of rocks’. How many times would she even have to prevent them from strangling each other?

"Uh, guys—"

"You're probably just mad because you can't get any dick. Is the dry spell not making you think straight? Oh, wait, you never thought straight in the first place," Angel taunted, which made Crymini even more angry. She bared her teeth at him.

"I'm going to strangle you. You'll see. I'll snap your little neck in half, like a chopstick made in China." 

This was a rather unusual threat. "Aren't all chopsticks technically made in China?" Mimzy whispered to Baxter, who eyed her like she had grown a second head.

"Guys—"

"I'd like to see you try. However, seeing as you're just a block of salt in a fursuit, I'm assuming you wouldn't get very far."

 _I didn’t want to have to do this,_ Charlie thought with a sigh as she stood up, putting her clipboard and glasses down. She would need them off if she was going to do this. Everybody else looked at her, already knowing what was coming, while Angel and Crymini were too concerned with their fight to notice. " ** _EVE͠R҉YONE, LI̡S͞TE͠N̴ UP!_** " There were horns and fire and terror, and suddenly everyone was all ears. Angel and Crymini immediately stopped fighting, and stared at Charlie with wide eyes, frozen in their spots. A Charlie who had lost her patience was immensely more terrifying than regular, happy-go-lucky Charlie, that’s for sure. Speaking of which, the princess took a deep breath to calm herself down. After this was all done, she sat back down, making sure to grab her clipboard and glasses. "No more infighting. It's time we start focusing on what truly matters here: your redemption. But first, let's start with our mental health. Arguing will lead us nowhere." Everyone nodded, not really keen on awakening angry Charlie once more. The door opened, and they all heard a familiar feminine voice.

"She's right."

Angel smirked, leaning in against his chair. "Oh, look who decided to show up. It's miss Kinda-Have-My-Shit-Together-But-Not-Really." Vaggie raised an eyebrow at him. She didn’t scream and insult him in Spanish, surprisingly, but she still looked slightly peeved.

"Was this supposed to be an insult?"

"More of an inside joke, really," Crymini replied.

Vaggie walked up to her girlfriend, and sat on the empty chair near her. "Did I miss much?" she asked her girlfriend, who seemed much happier now that she was there. How could she not? Vaggie was there to keep her company now! Besides, she could help contain the others. Vaggie was much more imposing and terrifying, even in her regular demon form, and Charlie didn’t like using her ‘scary demon princess’ form to scare others into obedience. That was her father’s thing, and she wanted to be different. To be _better._

"Not at all!” Charlie cheerfully told her girlfriend. “We're still doing introductions. Vaggie, would you please introduce yourself?"

"Sure, dear.” _The things we do for love,_ Vaggie thought as she turned to the others, her glare spelling out ‘do something dumb again and I _will_ slice you in half with my spear’. “My name is Vaggie and I'm here at my lovely girlfriend's insistence. As of now I don't have any mental problems, which is an accomplishment I'm sure one of you will manage to erase from my curriculum someday." That did get a chuckle out of a few of the patrons.

"Why wait? I can do it right now. I have years of experience in the mental health problem field," Angel Dust faux bragged. Charlie wrote this down, a little concerned.

"What would you have that's worth teaching?" Husk asked.

"Depends on what you want.” Angel shrugged, counting everything on his fingers. “I have a master's degree and a PhD in drug addiction, gender dysphoria and familial problems. I'm still working on getting a bachelor’s degree for PTSD, though, so you might wanna come back a few years later for that one." Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, including Vaggie. She wasn’t expecting _that_. He had said it so nonchalantly, too, like all of the issues he had said above weren’t problems at all, and more like mild inconveniences. Charlie began frantically writing all of this down, furrowing her brows. Did Angel often use humor as a coping mechanism? She would have to investigate further. Crymini, on the other hand, didn’t seem as impressed as the others. She just rolled her eyes at him, like Angel was a five-year-old who had just said something incredibly stupid.

"Wow, _only_ that? I expected much more from the great Angel Dust. Sounds like your seventy years of experience haven't given you many results."

"That's what happens when you put me on a pedestal, babe,” Angel teased, seemingly not bothered by her teasing and dismissive attitude. “Despite what all of you believe, I am not as flawless as most of you imagine me to be."

"Charlie, are you sure this is going to work?" Vaggie asked, looked her girlfriend in the eyes. Charlie smiled a bit, but was uncertain herself.

"It might take a while, but I believe therapy will totally be worth it in the long run.” She turned to the other patrons, who had started to argue once again. It seemed like every time she got distracted, chaos erupted. Vaggie seemed ready to grab her spear to threaten them, but Charlie stopped her with a wave of her hand. It wasn’t good to use the holy spear as a threat, and would make the patrons even more afraid to trust them, and she didn’t want that. Just a scolding, without her demon form, would probably be fine. “Guys! What did I say about arguing? Let's take all of our problems and put them on the table, so we don't have anything to hide from each other." Angel laughed out. This was the most absurd idea he had heard all day, and he hung out with Cherri Bomb on the regular (that girl sure had some crazy ideas).

"Yeah, that'll happen," he said with a hint of sarcasm.

Husk put his bottle of alcohol down (it must’ve been empty already) and said, sounding like a tired alcoholic father, "Kid, nobody's gonna tell a whole ass circle of demons their weakness."

"Angel Dust just did!" Niffty pointed out. Husk didn’t seem bothered.

"Ok, let me reiterate. Nobody with _good self preservation skills and a brain_ is gonna tell a whole ass circle of demons their weakness."

"None of y'all can do anything with this information that hasn't been done to me before.” Angel explained, not sounding bothered, and that sentence alone made everyone stare at him with wide eyes. They didn’t know much about Angel’s work, but they knew about his boss, the overlord Valentino, and that guy was _scary._ They couldn’t imagine working for him, so they knew what Angel meant when he said that. “I invite all of you to try, but I won't promise y'all are gonna come back with all of your limbs attached to your bodies." Well, they didn’t know what _that_ was about. Did Angel just threaten them?

"Um, would you like to talk about that?" Charlie asked, sounding extremely worried.

"I already am, toots. Get on with the program."

Before anyone could say something, a radio-filtered voice chimed in cheerfully. "Have I missed something?" Alastor asked as he walked into the room sporting his microphone cane. Angel felt his heart skip a beat. Right, he needed to act normally. It was just at that moment that his brain blanked and completely forgot what his ‘normal’ was. He was supposed to be flirtatious, right? Well, he sure as heck wasn’t flirting with Alastor. Maybe he just shouldn’t say anything? No, then the others would get suspicious that he was ignoring Alastor again? God, what should he do? This was harder than he thought, and Alastor’s presence wasn’t helping. He had spent a good portion of his Saturday deflecting Alastor’s questions about his bruises, assuring him that it was nothing and his clients were just rougher than usual. Well, it wasn’t _a lie,_ it just wasn’t the whole truth either. After making sure Alastor wouldn’t go on a killing spree around hell, he crashed into his bed. Who knew dealing with the radio demon would be so exhausting? Maybe this is how Charlie felt every day of her life. How did that girl remain so cheerful and positive? It was one of the many mysteries that would probably remain unsolved.

"Oh, Alastor! Not at all, we just started!" Charlie replied with a smile, adjusting her glasses. Alastor nodded, making his way to the only empty seat next to Husk. Angel was glad they weren’t really near each other, because that would be another disaster they would have to deal with. Looking at Alastor for half a second, he could tell that he felt the same. It was a coincidence, really, but a welcome one. In the meantime, the conversation continued without either of them realizing it. What were they talking about again?

"Angel was telling us about his issues!" Niffty added. _Oh, right, that,_ Angel thought.

"Wow, just rat me out, won't you?" Angel put a hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt. He wasn’t, really. After all, humor was his best and only coping mechanism besides crying in the shower.

"You brought this upon yourself," Crymini said, smiling. She was enjoying this now.

Angel looked unimpressed. He had heard way worse insults come from her, and this one was kind of a let-down, if he was being honest. "Yes, and I can get myself out of it too. Believe it or not, my ability to talk myself out of problematic situations is almost as good as my as my ability to talk myself into them!" He wasn’t really lying, though. After seventy years of living in hell, he had learned a lot of things. One of these things included being able to bullshit his way out of things. Even if he was terrible at lying, he had enough charisma and guns to make it work. The others didn’t seem too impressed or surprised by this revelation, and it showed. After all, who could’ve imagined the Angel Dust, famous porn star and often troublemaker, wouldn’t be able to get out of trouble? He was still alive, after all.

"Shocking," Vaggie deadpanned, crossing her arms.

"Alright, now that we're all here, Alastor, would you care to introduce yourself?" Charlie said, after writing everything down. The papers were getting full pretty quickly. She would make a mental note to bring more than five sheets of paper next time. She wouldn’t want to miss on writing precious information about her patrons just because she had run out of paper. Besides, she needed to keep the peace, and bring back the focus on what really mattered: the ‘therapy’ part of ‘group therapy’. Right now, this seemed more like a zoo, if a zoo was full of various mismatched animals with deep-rooted issues and weird coping mechanisms. Thankfully, Alastor had decided to be cooperative that day (what a miracle), and had no problem talking out loud. Well, he never really _had_ problem with that in the first place...

"Of course, dear,” he answered, still smiling. Thankfully, this one wasn’t as creepy. “I am Alastor, and I do not have any problems you can solve that do not involve erasing my existence." The room fell silent for a moment, everyone staring at him with wide eyes. The laugh track coming from the deer demon’s microphone did not make things any better. It probably made them a little worse, in fact, as the laughing track echoed in the mostly empty room (it had yet to be decorated since the decision to start group therapy was kind of a hasty decision), which was very, _very_ creepy.

"... That was unexpected," Mimzy said, breaking the silence.

Alastor laughed out loud, and it sounded fake, like most of his laughs. "Thank you, dear Mimzy. I _have_ been told I have a flair for the dramatics."

Charlie cleared her throat. Okay, it was time to change the subject. She decided to use something from a book that had a bunch of pre-written questions for group therapy. "Okay, let's expand upon our issues for a moment. What is something you all think you have in common?" This was a simple question, right? Nothing too difficult or revealing. They could just answer ‘cooking’ or ‘sewing’ and it would be fine.

"We share a deep contempt for each other's existence," Baxter replied matter-of-factly. _Well, this happened,_ Charlie thought, realizing she didn’t have control over her patrons at all. Niffty stared at him, enamored.

"Not all of us."

"Um, that's…” Charlie murmured. She had to think of something. Oh, she had an idea! “We can work with that. Why do you feel like this? Why do you dislike each other?" If she knew why the patrons disliked each other so much, then maybe she could understand more about them, and help them become friends with each other! That’s what she was striving for, after all. Yes, this was a perfect, flawless plan. She could see Vaggie shaking her head out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t worry too much about her. Sometimes it seemed like Vaggie didn’t really believe in her either, which was rather disheartening, but she didn’t let it get to her. Charlie knew her girlfriend was just trying to protect her, and it was really sweet. She would have to remind Vaggie later that night that she did love her, but she would appreciate if she had a little more faith in her. But that wasn’t the time right now. She had to focus on the task at hand: the group therapy. Speaking of which...

Crymini pointed at Baxter. "Do I have to explain myself?" Charlie blinked twice, trying to process this answer.

"...Yes, that's the entire point of this exercise."

"Fine.” Crymini was considered the teenager of the group, and therefore had been dubbed ‘the edgy one’. This was clearly starting to show right now. “I think Baxter is dumb, his calculations are dumb, his personality is dumb, his outfit is dumb, his attitude is dumb, his lab is dumb, and his entire existence is pointless," she said, her voice filled with scorn. No one knew exactly _why_ Crymini hated Baxter so much, she just did. Ever since she arrived at the hotel, she had acted very cold and distant to everyone (typical of a teenager), but she was especially mean towards Baxter, which was an interesting development at first, but quickly became tiresome, with Mimzy having to intervene every now and then. The room once again dove into complete silence, with Angel’s poor attempts at masking his laughter being the only sounds they could hear at the moment. Baxter stared at her, looking very hurt. Charlie felt bad for him.

"I’ve never felt so insulted in my entire life,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Good. That's what I was going for," Crymini retorted, smirking and crossing her arms. Charlie decided it was, once again, time to shift the focus from the fight to a new question. Why did it seem like, every time she asked something, they took it as a challenge to see who could hurt each other the most using only their words? She thought about another pre-written question from the book, and found one that fit the situation the most.

"Is there anything you admire about Baxter, Crymini?"

She thought about it for a moment, crossing her legs and bouncing one of them, until she said, "I admire how much time he spends on his lab. That means I see him less every day and therefore my blood pressure remains low." Baxter did not seem pleased.

"This sounds like an insult sugarcoated in a thin veil of praise."

"Because it is."

"Well,” Mimzy interjected, feeling another fight coming. “I, for one, admire how persistent Baxter is with his... Scientific pursuits. And also how quick he is to calculate things on his head." Charlie sighed in relief.

"Thank you, Mimzy, this was exactly what I was talking about!"

"But, dear, please change your clothes. Your sense of fashion is disastrous." And with that comment they were back to square one, also known as the ‘everyone remains the same as they were and no changes were psychologically made to make them better people and closer to redemption’ square. How unsurprising. Charlie decided that, instead of arguing and trying to keep the peace and bringing back demon Charlie to put everyone in their places, she would simply write everything down instead. If they started physically assaulting each other, she would then intervene. For now, however, she was focusing more on the headache she was possibly developing from hearing her patrons bickering and attacking each other all the time. Besides, even if she did accidentally insult Baxter’s fashion sense, Mimzy was still capable of breaking apart any fights that occurred (and, if that failed, there was Vaggie, who was still branding her spear and, similarly to her girlfriend, a possible headache). Speaking of which...

"It's not about fashion, it's about not getting burned from an accidental explosion! This lab coat is fireproof,” Baxter explained, gesturing to his black coat.

"Well, it sure isn't shielding you from Crymini's sick burns." Angel said, and his smirk widened as he heard Niffty start laughing out loud. Meanwhile, Charlie sighed, her plans of writing everything down long gone. Vaggie had warned her that this group therapy might crash and burn, but, to be honest, she didn’t expect it to happen this fast.

Charlie felt like this might be the longest two hours of her life.

**_. . ._ **

“I’m glad it’s over.”

Charlie sighed as she dropped on her bed, exhausted after a busy day. She had put her notes away, along with the notes of Angel and Alastor’s conversation, and still had a lot of paperwork to do after the group therapy. The fact that her first session ever had been a disaster and a half also wasn’t helping that much. Vaggie was sitting next to her on their shared bed, stroking her girlfriend’s hair. She would’ve said ‘I told you so’ to anyone else in that hotel, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it to Charlie. “I’m sure they’ll come around eventually, dear,” she assured her, but deep down this sounded more like a lie than a comforting comment. Charlie didn’t seem to mind, though. “Hang on, I’ll put my bow away.” With that said, she stood up and walked to their wooden tier cabinet, where she kept all of her bows (she had lots of them, in various colors and sizes). When she opened it, though, she saw that it was the wrong one. Instead of seeing multicolored bows, she found herself face-to-face with Charlie’s notes. Usually, this wouldn’t be that big of a deal, since Charlie probably had just moved her bows, but she got intrigued when she saw the words ‘Angel and Alastor’ written together on one of the notes, along with a bunch of question marks.

“Vaggie?” Charlie finally asked, noticing her girlfriend had been staring at the inside of the cabinet for a long time now. Vaggie finally picked up one of the notes and turned to Charlie, who, if she didn’t have a white face already, would’ve gone pale.

“Charlie, I thought you had stopped thinking about this,” Vaggie reprimanded her, and her disappointment was very clear. She really thought her girlfriend had put this past her, but she seemed as obsessed with those two as she was before. Vaggie hoped it wouldn’t damage her mental health too much. When the princess put an idea in her head, she followed through no matter what. It was one of the reasons the hotel was still standing.

“I’m only trying to help them, Vaggie!” Charlie explained, standing up from her bed and taking the note from Vaggie’s hand, analyzing it again. “I thought it was weird that they were so close to one another, but then, when I went downstairs to get a drink from the kitchen, I found them talking to each other, and they sounded so close, like best friends talking to each other…” As she said this, Charlie’s eyes widened and she could feel the gears slowly turning inside her head. Wait… “Oh my gosh...!” she exclaimed silently, putting the note back inside the cabinet and then turning around to shake Vaggie’s shoulders in excitement. The other girl had clearly been in the middle of scolding Charlie, but she had been too busy theorizing about her two friends’ relationship to listen. “Vaggie! Vaggie! I did it! I cracked the code!” she cried out, ecstatic. “I figured out why they’ve been acting so weird all this time!” Vaggie seemed a bit surprised by this, and slowly removed Charlie’s hands from her shoulders. She was already nursing a headache, and being shook was not on her list of things that would help with that.

“What is it?” she asked, bracing herself for the probably far-fetched answer, which was likely what was going to happen. Charlie paused for a moment, definitely trying to be dramatic, and finally said in a low voice, hoping no one else would hear:

“I think Angel and Alastor are secretly dating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie: I've connected the two dots.  
> Vaggie: you didn't connect shit.  
> Charlie: I've connected them.
> 
> (I love Buzzfeed Unsolved, as you can tell.)
> 
> Oh, Charlie, you were going so well... Wonder what she'll do with this information? Heh, next chapter will be very interesting, won't it? Also, in case you're wondering, the song Angel played on the violin is this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8mLKTY5TWM&t=3m30s. It's a beautiful song, and it's from Homestuck, the reason why Angel said Crymini would strangle him if he said it out loud lmao.
> 
> This chapter's title is the song "Ambiguity Avoidance" from Police Piccadilly.


	6. The needle and the damage done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel Dust disliked talking about Valentino. However, if there was something he disliked even more, it was Valentino himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am here!
> 
> Sorry for not having updated for a while, I got super sick with what I can only assume is the flu. My dad's still sick, though, and had to go to the doctor, so I'm home alone for now. This chapter is gonna be super heavy, so I'll advise you guys to tread with caution. Really gonna need some trigger warnings for that one.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: ABUSE, IMPLIED NON-CON, NEEDLES, DRUGS, WEIRDLY POETIC DESCRIPTIONS OF TORTURE/MURDER.

“Okay, here's a question: why am I not a deer?”

It had been Angel Dust’s idea to play Twenty Questions. So far, all the things they asked had been rather mundane, such as their favorite colors, and books they liked to read, but even if those discoveries were nothing earth-shattering, it still helped them learn things about each other that wouldn’t come up in a casual conversation. It didn’t matter that much that Angel lied about his favorite color, though. He just had a change of heart! After all, who doesn’t change their favorite color once in a while? Alastor may have been a little suspicious that his supposed favorite color was blue instead of pink, sure, but that’s just how he was: a box full of surprises. Thankfully, Alastor didn’t really question it. Angel was a terrible liar, he had always been, and if lying about what color he liked was a struggle, the justification would be even worse. That didn’t matter now, though, because he had a more interesting question. Being locked in the Porn Studios with limited contact to the outside world for so long meant he didn’t really understand how hell worked very well, as shown by his ignorance of who Alastor was when he first arrived. Just one of the many issues he had, it seemed. Angel gripped his sheets. He was thankful that all of his secret meetings with Alastor were held in his room. It made him feel less awkward, since he was in a familiar environment. Besides, his sheets were softer than Alastor’s.

Speaking of the devil…

“Hm?” Alastor asked, tilting his head, as if he didn’t understand the question. Angel Dust knew quite a bit about Alastor so far due to their meetings, including his day-to-day behavior towards Angel himself. He knew that the deer had understood every word of his sentence, but was pretending that he didn’t so that Angel would be forced to explain what he meant. Why would he do this, you ask? Hell if Angel knew, but calling Alastor out didn’t work. The spider was stubborn, but not as stubborn as his father, so he simply let it go and resigned to his fate of awkwardly elaborating his question.

“Like…” How would he explain this without sounding dumb? It seemed like an impossible task. Well, the question was rather dumb from an outsider’s perspective, especially since he had been living in hell for seventy years. There was no way to _not_ make him sound dumb. “You're a deer, and I'm your biological son, so it's only logical that I should be one too, right?” This made sense in his head. He had seen the ways biology worked in hell. Charlie looked like a combination of her parents (although she was much more similar to her dad), and all of the Ragno family members were spiders. However, Angel Dust was adopted, which therefore nullified his biological relationship to the Ragnos. If that was what was going on here, why wasn’t he a deer, or at least had some of their features? It didn’t make sense to him, and it bothered him more than he showed. “Is it some sort of family curse that every generation or so one of the children randomly becomes a spider or what? Why don't I have ears, or horns, or a tail, or whatever at this point?” Angel Dust didn’t want to show how enthusiastic he sounded, but the truth was that he really, really disliked being a spider. There was nothing wrong with it per se, but it felt odd and out of place for him. Perhaps this was why. Or maybe it was the fact that his depth perception had been fucked since he landed in hell. 

Honestly, it could go either way.

Alastor nodded, feeling sympathetic for Angel. It was clear the spider didn’t really like his appearance, and he wasn’t able to fool him, no matter how much he tried. Honestly, Alastor could relate a little, since being a deer, which was considered ‘prey’, didn’t sound very appealing to him either. Just one of the many things they unexpectedly had in common. ”That's not how things work here in hell. You're officially acknowledged as a Ragno because you were raised by them. Families are seen by bonds formed, not DNA itself, otherwise it would be unfair for the adopted children, wouldn’t it?” That actually made sense. “Unless you're a hellborn, biology doesn't really matter.” Alastor was not at all interested in hell biology, but this was common knowledge, especially since there were many families in hell. For a moment, he wondered how Angel would look like as a deer. He could see his son with fluffy pink ears, and this was interesting to imagine for a moment. Of course, it would never actually happen, but still, he couldn’t help but think about it. Would Angel still have his multicolored pink eyes, or would they adapt to become their original colors? What would happen to his pink spots? What about his freckles? The curly hair? The possibilities were endless.

“That sucks,” Angel replied, looking legitimately disappointed. “What's being a deer like?”

“You've already used your turn,” Alastor pointed out, amused.

“Come on, Al. Humor me.”

Alastor sighed, almost dramatically so, causing Angel to roll his eyes. It was just a question. ”Just because you asked, my dear. It's not very different from being a human for me at this point in time. I do have a few standard deer abilities. For example, my hearing has been enhanced, which means I can hear almost anything if I focus hard enough.” Angel nodded. He had witnessed this before, when Alastor used his enhanced hearing to make sure Niffty was gone. He wondered if this ability was on at all times, of if there was a way to turn it off. Not being able to control it sounded like a pain. “My sense of smell is also much more accurate than it used to be when I was a human.” That seemed to have come in handy with cooking. Alastor was a great cook, Angel had to admit. He had never eaten Jambalaya before, but the deer had dragged him to the dark side quite easily. “Not a lot has changed other than that, as far as I'm aware. So now it's my turn to ask you a question. What's it like being a spider?”

That question caught Angel Dust off guard.

He thought about this for a moment, and decided to answer honestly. “It sucked a lot at first. I went from being a 4'9 semi-regular human being to an 8-feet monstrosity in a matter of seconds, so I was very dazed at first.” Angel didn’t really miss being short that much, especially since Arackniss would endlessly mock him for it, but going from one extreme to the other also wasn’t ideal. “Since I had, like, six extra eyes and two more pairs of arms I didn't need, my depth perception and general sense of direction were fucked. For an entire month I just waltzed around like I was a newborn puppy. Luckily for me, Valentino found me before anyone else could, so I had somewhere to stay while all of this happened." At the mention of the pimp overlord, Alastor felt his body tense, his smile a bit too wide for anyone’s liking. Angel, however, was too enthralled in his own story, and thus failed to notice this. "I'm the fortunate one, though. Poor Molly got an extra pair of legs. She told me she used to trip all the time. Still does, actually. It's hilarious. You should see it, since you're all about Schadenfreude and stuff,” he said with a chuckle.

“I'm sure that's quite amusing,” Alastor agreed, letting go of his building frustration for a moment. He had never, in his entire life, lost control of his feelings, and he wouldn’t start now. “Perhaps we could arrange a meeting, just the three of us. I do find your sister to be quite lovely, although I can't say the same for the rest of your family.” Angel nodded, finding this a good idea. If he ever had to tell someone about his and Alastor’s relationship, Molly would be the first one to know. She might not have been his biological twin, but they were pretty much connected. Besides, Alastor _had_ been eavesdropping on them, and thus he probably knew that Molly was harmless.

“That’s a good idea,” Angel agreed. He wondered how Molly would react, though. Well, it was probably best not to think about it too much. It was then that Angel remembered Alastor had already used his turn, which only meant one thing. “It's my turn to ask a question now. Hmm…” He thought about something he really wanted to know about Alastor, instead of a casual question. “Okay, here goes a risky one: who was your first kill?” Was this _too risky_? He hoped not. 

Surprisingly, Alastor did not even hesitate. 

”Oh, that one is easy: Kenneth Lawrence, of course.”

“The douchebag that...?" Angel couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence. He really harbored a deep hatred for this man he _didn’t even know_ but unfortunately happened to be related to in an event of unfortunate situations.

Alastor nodded, sounding very excited. It was like he was waiting for this question to come up. It truly showed how he felt about killing others. Angel felt like he should have been more surprised, but having Alastor talk about his passions was entrancing. He didn’t even know Alastor _had_ passions until recently. “Indeed. He was rather easy to lure, unsurprisingly. One single letter pretending to be my pre-transition self and he was easily tricked into my web of lies.” Alastor’s face suddenly darkened, and Angel felt the temperature of the room drop drastically, followed by a looming sensation that tragedy was nigh. “I did not just kill him, though. I made sure to savor every second of pain that he went through, every bit of misery and fear. I made him watch his life flash before his own eyes as he begged me for mercy, and I dangled it before his face, making him believe he was going to be freed, that he was going to come out of this alive, if not with major bruises and lifelong trauma. Oh, it's incredible how easily other humans can cling onto a sliver of hope as they pray to their God out loud, only to be denied that fantasy and slowly killed, both inside and outside.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“You should write poetry,” Angel finally told him, unsure of what else to say. He felt rather intimidated.

“It's something I've thought of for a while, yes,” Alastor replied, much to Angel’s surprise. He had been kind of joking about the poetry thing, but did he seriously think about doing it? Huh. This day was full of surprises. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure there are many people out there invested in poems written by an overlord.” That was all he said, but there was a silent implication that, if Alastor was caught writing poems, his reputation as a feared overlord might take a hit. Angel himself didn’t know how he would react if, for example, _Vox_ wrote poetry. He definitely wouldn’t take him that seriously. He could understand Alastor’s hesitance. Still, it was a shame he would never get to see one of his poems. Could they get even bloodier than his current description of Kenneth’s murder? Angel was definitely curious now. 

He decided to put this aside for the time being.

“Fair enough,” Angel said with a shrug, trying to sound casual, and not at all still very interested in the intricacies of murder poetry. “It’s your turn to ask me a question.” He awaited anxiously as Alastor paused to think of something to ask. Finally, he seemed to have found a good question.

“Alright, tell me: what’s your favorite childhood memory?”

Oh, that was a surprising question. Angel Dust thought about this for a moment. He didn’t have many good childhood memories after his mother died, but before that, there were a bunch of them. After a few seconds of silence, he finally came up with an acceptable answer. “I just remembered something! Well, I was around six-years-old or something, and we were staying in a vacation house in the more rural parts of New York. I don’t really remember why, it doesn’t matter. Even better, it was a snow day! Naturally, Molly and I were very excited. I remember walking outside with her to make snow angels and snowmen when we found a huge dog walking around.” Angel smiled a little at the memory. Alastor knew he wasn’t done, because he could feel that there was more to this story. “The dog seemed rather friendly, but he was huge, like, double our size, so we assumed he was a Husky, because we heard they’re pretty big. We played with the dog for a while, and he even let us pet him for a while! When our mom called us inside, we brought him along and begged her to keep him. Oh, _how_ we begged.” It was like the memories were one short movie inside his head. Angel could see clearly the events unfolding as he told the story.

“I’m assuming she did not let you keep the dog?” Alastor asked with a more relaxed smile.

Angel shook his head, resting his head against the headboard. “Nope. No matter how much we tried to persuade her, she didn’t budge. We were _so_ sad. We were even going to come up with names and everything! Alas, our dreams were ripped away from us, and our mom didn’t even let the dog inside.” Angel paused for a second. He didn’t know why it was still so natural to call his adoptive mother ‘mom’, while calling Henroin ‘dad’ was excruciating. Maybe it was the fact that he was still hesitant to let go of her as a parental figure, combined with positive association. He hated Henroin with all of his might, but Florence, his mother, had always been an angel amongst men. He could never hate her… Well, he was sure Alastor wouldn’t mind at all. Besides, the deer demon was more interested in the story than the titles Angel chose to give to his adoptive parents. “Instead, she called the dog pound, and we grew even more depressed. We would never see our poor doggy again.”

“Why is that your favorite memory?” Alastor asked, curious. That didn’t seem like a particularly happy memory, or a funny one. Why would Angel pick this one over any other out there?

“Well…” Angel could barely contain his grin. “We received a call from the dog pound a few days later. As it turns out, our dog was not actually a dog. He was a _wolf_ that escaped from a conservation center.” There was a moment of silence. Alastor’s face was unreadable.

“So, basically speaking, you were dragging around a wolf all day.”

“Yup.”

“A _dangerous animal_ that could have bitten your head off.”

“That’s the one.”

“I have mixed feelings about this!” Alastor replied in a weirdly cheerful tone.

“I mean, it’s not like I _died…_ ” Angel paused. “...Then.” He cleared his throat, hoping to change the subject as the memory of his suicide made him shiver a little. Things were already awkward as they were. He didn’t know Alastor would have this kind of reaction, or he would’ve cited a Christmas morning as his favorite memory or something. Who knew telling people you were almost mauled by a wolf as a child would elicit shock and concern? “Okay, it’s my turn now. You talking about Kenneth’s murder just made me even more curious: how many people did you kill? Must've been a pretty high number if you were one of the most feared serial killers out there, right?” He wondered if this was an appropriate question. Was it wrong to ask a serial killer how many people they killed? Was there a serial killer etiquette he wasn’t aware of?

“That would be correct.” Ah, so it wasn’t a bad question. This was nice. Angel’s curiosity was piqued as he leaned forward, although he wasn’t really sure that this was supposed to accomplish. “I don't remember the exact number, but I must have killed around thirty or so people in total. Thirty-five, give or take. I didn't kill for the numbers, though. Each death was meticulously calculated. I don't hunt my prey; I let them come to me, like a moth attracted to a flame. It's what allowed me to stay hidden for an entire year, especially for a novice serial killer. The others described my methods as 'capricious', especially since I never seemed to have a clear pattern for my victims. I didn't go solely after women, or men, or a certain type of person. It was random, which was even more fun! It's much more entertaining watching everyone quiver before you, instead of just a certain demographic. And it shakes up the formula as well." Listening to Alastor ramble about his murders was a fun bonding exercise, that's for sure. Angel chuckled at that.

“Has anyone ever told you how creepy you are?”

“Constantly!”

“Good, I thought I myself wouldn't make it justice…” Angel stopped to contemplate his own life for a moment. Compared to him, Alastor was much more cold and calculating. Angel _did_ shoot a few demons in hell, but that did not count, since they would regenerate eventually, therefore not counting it as murder. “You know, I only killed, like, one person in my entire lifetime, but I'm still pretty satisfied with that.” He didn’t know if that was really true. Perhaps he was trying too hard to relate to the only biological family he had so far. Truth be told, he didn’t really know how to feel about the murder itself. At all. “It ate me up for a long time, and no one in my family knows. They think I'm in hell just for the sin of lust, but I'm kind of here for the wrath too.”

“Really?”

“Yup. I don't really like to talk about that, though.” Angel hoped his discomfort wasn’t audible, and he also hoped that Alastor wouldn’t push him to talk more. Thankfully, his father seemed was feeling rather considerate today, so he didn’t push.

“Is there something else you'd like to talk about?”

Angel thought about this question for a moment. Was there a subject he wanted to know about Alastor? He had been too busy thinking and talking about his own family woes to focus on something in particular. Wait… “Actually, I'm curious now. How are your parents like?” Since Alastor was his father, that means he also had parents, who were Angel’s biological grandparents. He found himself suddenly curious about his own family tree. Did he have uncles? Aunts? Cousins, perhaps? What were they like? He needed to know. “I mean, you've kinda seen my family already. My adoptive dad's a jerk and a half whose pride got him into this mess, and a transphobe to boot. My brother probably has some sort of inability to feel emotions, and he's killed more people than I can imagine. My sister's a sweetheart, but she was complicit with their crimes in the mafia, which is probably what got her in hell. The only member of my family who's in heaven in my mom, who's never done anything wrong in her entire life, that saint. So, what about your mom? Was she nice too?”

“My mother was the nicest person I knew,” Alastor said, and his trademark smile grew sincere and fond as he spoke. It could be considered contagious, because Angel, too, felt himself relax. “She had this calming aura around her that could make anyone at ease immediately, and knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. Not only that, she was the most beautiful woman too. Wild red hair and entrancing green eyes, not to mention her freckles. Her appearance would make anyone do a double take, which is why I was really surprised when you inherited those traits, you know.” It was almost unnatural for Alastor to speak about someone with such high regard, but he could understand. This was his mother they were talking about. Angel could picture her in his head, because it seemed like they looked very alike. The green eyes, the bright red hair...

“Ugh, now I'm having flashbacks of being a ginger…” he said with a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “People at my school started a rumor saying that I had no soul and stuff. I have no idea where they got this from.” This piqued Alastor’s interest. He was learning more and more about Angel through his random rants. He wasn’t aware that people thought red-haired people had no soul. His mother, a redhead, certainly never had to face that problem.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it was kinda frustrating. Jokes on them, I didn't really have a soul,” he joked, successfully getting a chuckle out of Alastor. “Anyway, I liked to tell them I would steal theirs. Most of them stayed away from Molly and I because of that, but we had each other, so it's not like it mattered. Still, I was so jealous of Arackniss. He had been born with brown hair, and no one made fun of him for that. They just made fun of him for being a loser.” Angel resisted the urge to laugh at his own joke, mostly because he didn’t feel like laughing. He had faced so many hardships simply because the Ragnos were a strange family. “People also made fun of us for our strange traditions. Did you know our family has a strict naming code? It's ridiculous! Every two generations, the children must have their initials be M.A if they're female, and A.M if they're male. It's stupid and I hate it. I'm pretty sure my mom ran out of creativity with me, since I came after Molly. What kind of name is Madalena Adelia anyway? I was, like, a bootleg version of my sister, Madeline Amelia. People even confused us often. I mean, the twin thing probably had something to do with it…” He stopped himself, eyes widening as he felt his face burn. God, he had done it again. “Fuck, I'm rambling… Again.”

Alastor seemed unfazed. He simply said, with a dismissive motion of his hand, “Don't worry about it. Your ramblings are quite entertaining!” He should have expected this kind of answer from Alastor. Angel didn’t even notice that he was pouting until it was pointed out to him. “Oh, quit pouting, it doesn't look good on you. Anyway, I must say I'm surprised at this revelation, since my family upheld a similar tradition.”

“Wait, for real?!”

“Indeed. Everyone in my family had to have their name start with M. My mother's name was Margot, my aunt's was Miriam, and my cousins' names were Millicent and Matthew.” Angel didn’t know what to focus on: the fact that his biological and adoptive families both had incredibly similar traditions, which was an incredible coincidence, or the fact that Alastor did have an aunt and cousins. It didn’t matter to him that they had weird names. He was just glad to know more about his family. “It was ridiculous. I decided to break the streak by renaming myself Alastor instead. My mother was elated with my decision, since she too thought it was a stupid tradition. My father forced her to adhere to it.”

“Was your father nice too?” Angel asked, although, by the looks of it, he probably could already guess the answer.

“Not one bit.” Ah, so he was right. Angel felt sympathy for Alastor. Being stuck with a shitty father was truly a tragedy, especially since you cannot escape a toxic parent’s wrath like you can escape a toxic romantic partner’s. “Like I've said before, one of my biggest regrets was not hunting him down and shoving a knife down his throat.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that…” It wasn’t that Angel accidentally forgot, really. He had been forcing himself to forget. “I've kinda been trying to repress all memories of the game night for the past few days to varying degrees of success.” He said this so casually that it made Alastor a little concerned. Speaking about suppressing memories like this, as if Angel had been doing it for a while… What was he hiding? Alastor wanted to ask about it, get some answers out of him in order to help, but he thought it wouldn’t be appropriate. Besides, it seemed like Angel was intent on not being helped. It was a rather troublesome conundrum... Angel did not seem to notice the troubled stare Alastor was giving him, deeply focused on knowing more about his newfound family. “So, why do you hate your dad?”

“You see…” Alastor stopped for a moment, wondering how to put his thoughts into words. There was so much to be said about his father that he could barely string a coherent sentence in his head to say about him. In the end, he decided to use a more polite approach, instead of using every curse word in French to describe him. “In general, my father, who I shall address as Philippe, seemed like a rather decent fellow to be around. He was intelligent, calm, and charming, the holy trinity of redeeming qualities. He was known to be the perfect family man. In fact, we were the perfect family. A responsible father, a dutiful mother, a quiet child... That was, however, just the persona we portrayed. Behind closed quarters, Philippe was distant, and I never truly knew why. Neither did my mother. I suspected he had fallen out of love with her, but she was still very much in love with him, chasing after a life they once had. I did my job to stay out of their way, and allow them to resolve their conflict. In my young mind, I had the thought that this was just a phase, and they would go back to being the perfect couple soon after. However, shortly after I became seven-years-old, Philippe abandoned us.”

“Holy shit...” Angel muttered, fully invested in the story.

“Ah, trust me, there was nothing holy about the situation!” Alastor joked, and Angel laughed a little out of politeness, especially since he was trying to hide how much he could relate to Alastor right now, and how painful it was. Truthfully, he was a little jealous, since he seemed to have much more trouble coping than Alastor did. It was tiring, and made him wonder if there was something wrong with him. Why couldn’t he simply move on like Alastor? “My mother never remarried, and I suspected they never actually divorced. Philippe simply disappeared, never to be seen again. I have a lot of respect for my mother for holding it together and providing for me instead of simply having a mental breakdown. I'm not sure what I would have done in her place.”

“Well, I now have a lot of respect for her too!” Angel said, eyes glimmering. God, he wished he could have met Margot. She sounded so nice, just like his mom. He wondered how Florence and Margot would interact with each other. Two lovely women who were doing their best to hold their families together? They sure would've had a lot to talk about. Angel also would’ve given everything to have the chance to meet her. Would they have had the same interests? What would they have talked about? He felt like he had missed a big opportunity. “It's a shame she's in heaven, though, I wish I could've met her, since my—” Angel Dust was interrupted mid-sentence when his phone, which was lying near him, buzzed, indicating he had received a text. He sighed, wondering what Cherri wanted at this point, but he felt all blood drain from his face when he came face-to-face with Valentino’s profile picture in his notifications. Ignoring Alastor, he opened his messages to see what his boss wanted.

 **[Valentino]  
** **Angie, baby, sweetheart.**

 **[Valentino]  
** **My office. Thirty minutes.**

 **[Valentino]  
** **A limo will be there in ten.**

 **[Valentino]  
** **Don’t make this harder than it has to be.**

Angel could feel a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had learned ways to know when he was in trouble (everyone at the studio did). Every time Valentino was mad at him, he would say ‘Angie, baby, sweetheart’, in that exact order. It’s been used on him so many times that this combination of words would sometimes trigger a visceral reaction in him, a feeling so strong that he sometimes would just double down and nearly have a panic attack. Just glancing at the words made him ill as he could suddenly feel Valentino’s strong hands gripping his arms, pressing him against the wall while his teeth brushed dangerously close to his jugular veins. Angel didn’t even notice he was at the brink of a panic attack until Alastor’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Angel, did something happen?” He sounded concerned, despite not dropping his smile. Ah. Angel had almost forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room. Valentino always had this effect on him. His threats made him forget about other people’s existence, always concerned about his own survival instincts, even though he couldn’t technically die. Still, even if he was basically immortal, the pain was unforgettable and traumatizing.

“I, uh, I gotta go to work…” Angel admitted, getting up from his bed and walking up to his closet. He would have to change clothes if he wanted to go to Valentino. He had around eight minutes to change, since he wasted two having a mini-panic attack in front of Alastor. Speaking of which, he did not sound very convinced that Angel _was_ okay enough to go to work. Besides, he remembered one important detail.

“I thought you said today was your day off.”

Ah, yes, he had almost forgotten about that. “Um, change of plans, I guess.” God, he was terrible at lying. He wasn’t even convincing _himself._

“...Do you want me to reason with him?”

This made Angel almost choke on his own spit. Did… Did Alastor just offer to… What? “What? No, no, no!” Jesus, he sounded way more desperate than he should be, almost as if he was hiding something. Well, he _was,_ but Alastor didn’t need to know about that! He didn’t want to involve anyone in this mess. Besides, he had been dealing with this for decades! It’s not like things would suddenly change. He… He just needed to be stronger. Forgetting about this for a while, Angel Dust picked his usual suit from his closet and walked into the bathroom to change, closing the door behind him. Still, he continued talking to Alastor. “There's no need. I'll just, uh, go... And stuff.” Angel Dust felt his face burn at the stupidity of his own lies. He really, really sucked at this, and maybe should consider practicing more. After quickly dressing himself (he had no time to lose, after all), Angel left the bathroom and tossed his other clothes on a laundry basket near the nightstand. 

“I need to hang out with my coworkers for a while anyway, you know? Catch up on the office gossip and shit.” _Why am I still talking?_ Angel asked himself, find himself unable to stop rambling. Why was he just incapable of shutting up? “Haven't talked to them in a while... Anyway, uh, I'll see ya at later, bye!” And with that said, he dashed out of the room, closing the door so loudly that it almost broke under the pressure.

Alastor watched him leave silently, pondering about his options for a while.

This was quite troublesome, indeed.

**_. . ._ **

While waiting for the limo to come fetch him, Angel Dust started reviewing his options.

So far, the situation wasn’t looking so good. He still had a few minutes until the limo would arrive, and the remaining time only served to make Angel even more anxious at what awaited him behind the closed doors of Valentino’s office. He remembered it vividly: the smell of his boss’s favorite cologne mixed with the suffocating smell of cigarettes and a faint whiff of alcohol; the bright pink wallpaper decorated with hearts and the fluffy red carpets, giving the room an elusive sense of peace and happiness meant to trick the workers into dropping their guards, even if for a brief moment; the ornate and vaguely somber furniture covered with the softest of pillows… Everything about his room was a big red flag, something that screamed ‘you’re not coming out of this alive’, and yet Angel couldn’t really do anything about it. Being in a soul-bound contract with Valentino meant he was forever trapped unless, by some implausible miracle, Valentino decided to free him, or pass his contract onto someone else’s possession, which everyone knew wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. Angel Dust was his most valued worker, his biggest cash cow, and Valentino would do anything to keep him under his cruel, merciless grasp. 

Angel hadn’t been aware of this when he agreed to make a deal with Valentino. If he had, then he wouldn’t have accepted. A double death would have been more accepting than eternal slavery. He loved his job, and he loved his friends who happened to be his coworkers, but being psychologically tortured time and time again for not obeying nonsensical orders and daring to live his own life definitely wasn’t worth it. Still, he couldn’t help but side with Valentino whenever a discussion about how bad he was happened. Why? Why would he defend such a lowlife? The truth was that Angel didn’t know, but he had a vague suspicion that he was mostly defending himself instead. He hated having others tell him about his bad decisions, and other people attack Valentino was, for him, equal to them attacking _his_ choices. He hated that he got so defensive over something so petty, but his pride and stubbornness just got the best of him. One of the few things he seemed to have in common with Alastor, it seemed.

Angel Dust looked up when he heard a limo horn blare loudly on the street. His ride had arrived. One of Valentino’s bodyguards stepped out of the limousine and held the door open for him. Angel recognized this bodyguard. He was one of the most ruthless ones, who most of his coworkers feared. His stoic expression almost sent shivers down Angel’s spine, but he managed to regain his composure. This was not the time to chicken out, especially since he didn’t have the luxury to. He was Valentino’s puppet, and nothing more. Gracefully stepping inside the limousine, Angel located the seat closest to the window and furthest from where the bodyguard usually sat, and simply put all of his energy into looking out the window to distract himself and pretend he wasn’t walking into his impending doom on gunpoint. As the limo began to head towards its destination, Angel once again reviewed his options. So far, the only thing he could do was comply with Valentino’s demands and hope to receive a lighter punishment. Things were looking very grim for him.

Just as he had resigned to his fate, Angel Dust started to feel slightly lightheaded, and his mind felt fuzzy. For a moment, he questioned what this could be, or if he was going to pass out from stress, but that was not the case, apparently. As it turned out, it was something much more familiar, but that he had almost forgotten about.

_"What's up, bro?"_

Angel almost jumped upon hearing the voice inside his head. The bodyguard glanced at him for a moment, and upon assessing the situation and deciding that there was no imminent danger, went back to his usual position of staring at his own shoes with his arms crossed. Angel was glad that the voice was only audible inside his head. For a second he had completely forgotten that the telepathic connection he shared with Molly was a two-way street, and that she could contact him at any moment without his permission. Honestly, Angel didn’t know if he could consider this a blessing or a curse right now. On one hand, Molly might provide him some much needed distraction from his anxiety-inducing trip to his boss’s office; on the other, he was in a high-stress situation and the difficulty of lying about his current ‘okayness’ would be tenfold. His sister was very emotionally sensitive, and he didn’t want to put that kind of stress on her. Well, it was better to start answering her, or she would get impatient and start pestering him again.

 _"Jesus fuck, Molly, you startled me,"_ Angel replied, trying to sound as natural and careless as possible. He needed to give her an ‘I’m-not-anxiously-awaiting-my-second-death’ vibe. So far, he was nailing it. 

_"That's what I was going for, dummy! I'm the master of sneak attacks, don't you dare forget it."_ Angel tried to stifle a smile (especially since the bodyguard was there and smiling out of nowhere was suspicious). Molly was always pulling his leg with sneak attacks since they were little kids. She really thought she was sneaky, huh? Well, in some occasions she could be, but not generally. Still, Angel decided not to shatter her worldview by telling her the truth, even if she bashed his lying abilities every single time they talked.

 _"What do you want?"_ He tried to sound casual, but it came out as if he was annoyed. Thankfully, Molly knew him as much as he knew himself, and she didn’t take it the wrong way.

 _"Just wanted to talk to my favorite brother, that's all. Is that a crime?”_ Ah, so he was still beating Arackniss in that regard. Good. _“'Sides, it's been a while! I wanted to give you some space so that you could, um, process everything. So... How you holding up?"_ For a moment, the world started going in slow motion for Angel Dust. What was the best option here? He really, _really_ didn’t want Molly to worry about him. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gone through this before, right? He would be fine. Everything would be fine. As long as he did what he was told and kept his mouth shut, he would come out relatively unscathed and only with a few more mental scars to add to his collection. It was fine. Everything was fine.

_"I'm fine."_

Despite his best attempts at trying to convince her and himself that everything was fine when it was, in fact, not fine, Molly wasn’t convinced, probably because she knew Angel like the back of her hand, and she knew he would try to pull something like this. It was an incredibly predictable move on his part. _"I have a vague suspicion that you're lying to me."_ If he was allowed to, Angel Dust would have rolled his eyes. However, this would be weird and useless, since she wasn’t in front of him to witness it, and having him roll his eyes out of nowhere would probably arouse a little bit of suspicion from the bodyguard who would definitely think he was going crazy. But even so, he still wanted to.

 _"Then why ask me if you're not gonna believe me?"_ he asked, slightly peeved.

_"Because you had the option to not lie to me, duh."_

Well, she got him there. _"How can you even tell I'm lying through this mysterious telepathic connection?"_

_"Because you suck at it, even mentally."_

_"Okay, that part is true,”_ Angel admitted. When they first figured out how to communicate via telepathy, Angel thought it would be easier for him to lie, since there wasn’t any sort of body language involved, and that was the part he had most trouble dealing with. However, as he soon found out from a few ‘test drives’, he still pretty much sucked at lying, especially due to intonation. Even if that wasn’t the case, though, Molly was just an expert at picking out lies. Not only did she help a little bit in the mafia business, but she also grew up with two siblings, all of which tried to frame each other for their misbehavior. Learning to lie seemed to have become an essential part of growing up as a Ragno. Perhaps this was why Angel Dust was bad at lying, then. It was a farfetched theory, but it was kind of funny when he thought about it for a second. It was then that Angel noticed Molly had fallen quiet for a while. _“Molly? You there?”_ he asked, a little concerned. It took her a few seconds to answer.

_"...Ari's worried about you, you know."_

Angel felt like his heart might’ve skipped a beat. This seemed like such a non-sequitur. Why would she even think of bringing up the subject of Arackniss? Well, it made sense to her. She was his sister. She loved him. And Angel… He didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, his adoptive brother seemed to have his best interest in mind, but on the other, it seemed like no matter what he said, it would always end up hurting him. It didn’t help that he was being misgendered and deadnamed left and right, and his family didn’t even care, with Molly being the exception. He was now wondering what would happen if he and Arackniss were closer. Would they also share the telepathic abilities that Angel did with Molly? It was a possibility. A few years ago, Angel would’ve deemed it impossible, since it was a twin connection, but as it turns out, he’s adopted, which nullified that theory. Wait, did hell consider them twins? Alastor had said that biology didn’t matter in hell, only bonds. So would that mean that they were still considered twins? Angel sure still considered them as such. So how would that work? Hell was so confusing...

Angel Dust almost forgot he had to respond to his Molly. What were they talking about again: Oh, yes, Arackniss. _"Ah, yes, I'm sure he's concerned about his weak, fragile, defenseless little sister."_ He didn’t try to hide the bitterness in his voice. He liked Arackniss… Sometimes. But he couldn’t fake his feelings. If he did, Molly would catch on, and that would be the same as nothing. He looked out the window again, and noticed that he recognized the buildings around them. They were getting closer to the Porn Studios. It would be only a few more minutes. Crap. He had totally forgotten that he was actually going there. It was nice to not have to deal with his anxiety for a short while.

_"Angel—"_

The anxiety only made his temper worse. Angel didn’t really realize he sounded angry when he answered her. It wasn’t his intention, but he just needed to let things out. Molly wouldn’t care. She’d heard him vent before, and he heard her. They were each other’s support through thick and thin, even after this astonishing discovery. _"Why does he care anyway? I'm adopted. I imagined him and Henroin would be the first ones to throw me to the wolves."_

He was surprised to hear Molly gasp on the other side, as if she had just heard the most outrageous thing ever. _"You know Ari doesn't care about these things! You're family, adopted or not!"_ There was a moment of silence between them. In that moment, Angel couldn't help but feel conflicted. He had been so eager to abandon the Ragnos after finding out about his adoption that he didn't stop to think how _they_ felt about it. Did they really consider him family, still? Henroin had already given his answer, which was ironically refusing to give an answer, but what about Arackniss? His older brother had known that he was adopted, but he never said he didn’t consider Angel his brother still. Everything was so confusing that it was giving him a headache. _"Besides, Arackniss might seem cruel and heartless on the outside but deep, deep, deep inside he's a big softie."_ He might not have been able to laugh out loud, but he did laugh in his head. This was the biggest exaggeration he had ever heard come from Molly so far.

_"Now who's the one lying?"_

_"Fine. You know what? Forget about him. We're not here to talk about our older brother with slight psychopathic tendencies.”_ Angel cracked a small, almost invisible smile upon hearing this. Well, they all had to agree on something, and the fact that Arackniss did have a few psychopath traits was it. _“I wanna know how you are! And I want the truth this time."_ Angel took a moment to ponder about this. Lying again would do no good, but he didn’t really want to tell her about Valentino. His family knew what he did. How could they not? His face was plastered all throughout hell and his fame knew no bounds. They also knew Valentino was a jerk. However, they weren’t aware of the extent of his abuse. The mental scarring, the constant anxiety, the flashbacks, the threats, the blackouts… No one outside the studio truly knew what it was like to work for Valentino. Lifelong trauma was a guaranteed bonus, especially if you messed up a lot, or were one of his favorites. Angel Dust just happened to fall on both categories at the same time. He didn’t mean to, though. He was just… He was just an idiot...

_"Jeez, fine! I'm not as ok as I thought I'd be. Is that what you wanna hear?"_

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

_"Oh, Angel—"_

_"No, don't you dare,"_ Angel cut her off, and, despite trying his best not to sound like it, his voice was filled with pain and sadness. He heard it. Molly heard it. None of them said anything for a while, and Angel continued to look out the window, watching as the buildings passed by slowly. He his boss’s limousine couldn’t drive as fast as a regular car because of how big it was, but he had seriously hoped it would go faster than this. He wanted to get that over with as soon as possible. It was like the universe was taunting him, savoring his anxiety as much as possible, and he fucking hated it. He hated it so much. How did his life even come to this?

_"What?"_

Angel Dust had been so enthralled in his own pity party he had almost forgotten about the conversation. One of the downsides of not having the person you’re talking to be in front of you: sometimes you forget they’re talking to you. _"Don't you dare try and pity me,"_ he elaborated. If there was one thing Angel despised more than Valentino’s punishments, it was pity. More specifically, the pity he would receive afterwards from his coworkers. They had long learned that he did not need their pity, but his sister hadn’t really gotten the memo yet.

 _"I'm not pitying you!_ ” That was a lie. _“I'm just... Sad about this whole situation. It's not your fault that you're adopted! It's dad's for lying about it for so long!"_

Angel Dust felt his muscles stiffen as his hands curled into fists in his lap. He wanted to agree with her. He wanted to agree that it was Henroin’s fault, because it _was_ Henroin’s fault, but it felt wrong to put the blame solely on him. He remembered what the man had told him: ‘it’s what your mother wanted’. What role did Florence Ragno play in this unfolding story? Why would she want to keep this a secret from him? Angel didn’t want to blame his mother. He loved her with all of his heart. However, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her too. Didn’t he have a right to know? Was she afraid that he would leave her to find his biological parents? That was ridiculous; he would never do that. Was she afraid that he felt like he might not fit in, perhaps? No, that didn’t make sense either. Maybe she thought he would be bullied for being adopted? Arackniss knew, and he never actually did anything. Besides, Angel had been getting bullied anyway, so it’s not like another insult would matter. He had long outgrown the feeling of being unwanted, because that’s what Henroin made him feel, and not even the harshest of insults from his peers would top one disapproving stare from the head of the family. Angel let out a mental sigh. Why was family so complicated?

 _"I don't know... I guess I should just be grateful he took me in and I didn't end up rotting in the adoption system instead..."_ This wasn’t a lie. What would have happened to him if Henroin didn’t take him in? Nothing good, he presumed. He had heard horror stories from a few of his coworkers who were or became orphans and had to turn to sex work to make ends meet. It was how they ended up in the same industry in hell in the first place. Despite having done the same, Angel’s reason was different from theirs. He would never feel in debt to Henroin, especially after everything he put Angel through, but he was grateful for having been given the chance to have a family, a _real family,_ even if that happiness ended when he was eight-years-old, followed by years of misery, as well as self-discovery and destruction. But if he had considered Molly and _even Arackniss_ his real siblings, no matter what a piece of paper said...

...Why had he been so eager to simply _give up_ on being a Ragno?

 _"You don't have to think you're indebted to him, you know? Mom was the one who convinced him to adopt you. Dad just begrudgingly went along with it."_ Angel resisted the urge to bite his lip.

 _"I know, I just—”_ His heart almost stopped once his eyes landed on the Porn Studios. As soon as they did, the limo stopped. _“Shit, I have to go."_ He didn’t see it, but he could almost feel Molly frowning.

_"Is everything ok?"_

_"Yeah, it's just... Work stuff, you know?"_ It wasn’t a lie, but he wasn’t going to elaborate either. She didn’t need to worry about this.

_"Ah, I see. In that case, good luck."_

_"Thanks, sis. Talk to ya later."_

And, after he said that, their telepathic connection ended. The bodyguard stood up from where he was sitting and opened the door for Angel Dust, still as stoic and intimidating as ever. The spider stepped out of the car as carefully as possible, and did his best to act normally, even under the pressure of the imminent punishment he was about to receive. He stood straight and proud, walking inside with the bodyguard on his tail, ready to ward off any demons that gave Valentino’s prized porn star any unwanted attention. Thankfully, they made it to the building without any casualties. Angel relaxed a bit as the cool breeze of the air conditioner brushed his fur, making his hair wave up and down. He didn’t really bother getting it under control. The atmosphere of the Porn Studios’ reception would sometimes calm him down. He could see his friends and coworkers working and chatting and just generally having a good time. In fact, he could spot one of them running in his direction right now, while another begrudgingly followed. Angel Dust thought this was a bad idea, because he was with an intimidating bodyguard, but, surprisingly, the demon didn’t even budge. It was understandable, though. Who would dare hurt Valentino’s workers?

“Angel!” one of the girls, Calliope, called out for him, waving her hand in the air frantically, as if he would miss her if she didn’t make a scene. This was so typical of her. Angel watched, amused, as her white and gray fur sparkled in the light, long dark hair bouncing on her shoulders. Marble foxes were truly magnificent creatures, and Calliope was the most magnificent of them all. “Angel, wait up.” He didn’t know why she was still screaming about it. He had already stopped walking.

“Goddammit, Callie, he already stopped,” another one of his coworkers, Asterisk, mumbled as he was being dragged by Calliope towards Angel. Despite being taller, he didn’t even protest. Angel found this hilarious. Everyone knew he had a mild crush on her, so they didn’t really question the fact that he followed her everywhere while pretending he hated every second of it. Besides, weren’t owls known for being grumpy? Asterisk wasn’t fully an owl (he had no beak, after all), but he had owl wings and a feathery tail that everyone loved to poke, so he was a honorary one. “Hey, dude, we haven’t seen you in a while,” he greeted Angel Dust casually, nodding his head cordially.

“Yeah, been kinda busy with stuff, you know how it is,” Angel responded, once again terrible at lying. The great thing about his workplace, though, was that no one gave a fuck.

“I love stuff!” Calliope replied excitedly, wagging her tail. “Does that mean you’re here to hang out with us?”

Angel felt his mood sour a little. “No, Callie, sorry. Big Vee called me to his office.” He knew things were bad when the ever-so-cheerful Calliope’s ears dropped and her eyes widened in fear. Even Asterisk seemed surprised at the mention of the office, the place where happiness went to die, the brown feathers on his neck standing on edge. “Don’t worry about it, though, I can handle it. Maybe we can hang out later. See ya, toots!” He said with a wave, not even letting them talk. There was nothing to talk about, anyway. He was on a time limit. Calliope just waved at him sadly while Asterisk tried to comfort her, wrapping one of his wings around her body. Angel Dust found this a little dramatic. It wasn’t like he was going to _die,_ he was just going to be tortured a little. It wasn’t a big deal. He had gone through this plenty of times. He just wondered what it was that he did this time…

After he had arrived at the office and knocked on the door, he was on his own. The bodyguard had left his side.

He was alone.

And this was fine.

It was fine.

The door opened by itself (somehow), and Angel Dust slowly walked inside. The place was still the same as ever, with the exception of a small rectangular black box on his desk. Valentino had his big spinning chair turned to the window, as if staring out while he waited. Angel knew what this was about, though. His boss was all about the dramatics. He loved a big entrance, and what is a better entrance than a cliché villain chair spin? As soon as he stepped into the room, the door behind him shut itself. Angel jumped, all the fur in his body standing up as a shiver ran down his spine. There was no way to describe what he was feeling right now, but he sure as heck hated it. The room’s mixed smells of cologne, cigarettes and alcohol were giving him a headache, and that was the last thing he needed in a situation like this. He was also curious about what was in that black box, but this was the last of his worries right now. In a very cliché manner, Valentino slowly spun around on his chair, his position relaxed and carefree, his head resting in one hand. Angel began to cold sweat at the sight. Despite his cartoonishly comical spin, nothing about this was funny to him.

“Ah, Angie, baby. You're here,” Valentino said casually, grinning. His sharp teeth gave Angel Dust even more anxiety. The pet names did not ease his troubles either. He needed to plan his next steps carefully. If he played in Val’s favor, he might come out of this with less broken bones this time.

“Hey, Val…” Angel greeted meekly, staring at the floor.

Valentino tilted his head. “You look a little down, dear, why is that?” Angel did not have the chance to answer. He did not need to, though, because he knew Valentino would do it for him instead anyway. He loved to talk for his employees as if they had no free will. “Could it be that you know you've disappointed me? Ah, you're so perceptive, baby. This is why you're my favorite. And you know I have high standards for my favorites, right?” Angel flinched. He knew that. Everyone knew that, in fact. Being Valentino's favorite wasn't something to be happy about. It was something to _fear._ There was only silence between them for a few seconds as Angel processed what was happening. Valentino was stalling as much as possible. He was savoring his favorite employee’s anxiety, watching him squirm under his gaze. It was positively delightful. “I’ll give you one chance to tell me why you think you messed up.”

Angel looked up, eyes wide. “I…”

He didn’t know. At all.

“I don’t know, boss,” he admitted. Being a shitty liar never had pros, only cons, and this was one of them. Even if he could lie, there was no way to bullshit himself out of this mess. Valentino was ruthless, and he _hated_ lying. One of the reasons he loved Angel Dust so much was that he was very honest. He didn’t actually know the real reason Angel was so honest, though.

“Ah, that's quite a disappointment.” That’s when Valentino stood up, slowly heading towards Angel, but never really approaching him, and the spider realized he was unconsciously backing away. He hadn’t even noticed he had been doing it; it was his survival instincts acting. “Well, you see, you've been spending a lot of time on the princess's little hotel lately, haven't you?” Angel opened his mouth to reply, but he didn't have to. There was nothing to say. “I'm sure you're having a lot of fun, aren't you, dear?” Valentino was taunting him, enjoying his fear. His grin couldn’t get any wider. “You know what’s happening here, Angel?”

“No…”

“That bitch of a princess and her little friend are trying to take you from me,” Valentino explained, as if that wasn’t the most ludicrous thing Angel had ever heard. Charlie would never do that. She saw him as a person, as a friend, and not something to be owned, to be _taken._ However, the overlords didn’t know her as well as Angel did, so they wouldn’t know that. Besides, he was in no place to argue with his boss, so he kept his mouth shut. “I'm sure they think they've beat me, don't they, hon?" Angel paled. He didn't know how respond. Valentino’s grin turned into a relaxed smile as he placed his hands behind his back. “You see, I was thinking about attacking the hotel as retribution. Maybe bombing the place a little. Sending some drones. Have some fun, you know?” Angel felt his heart rate go up. Valentino was going to attack the Happy Hotel?! Why would he do that? That place never represented any harm to his business. Was he doing it just because he was bored, then? This was a terrible idea. Still, he kept his mouth shut. He would think about a solution to this later.

That’s when Valentino’s smirk turned into a snarl.

“However, I have one problem: _Alastor._ That miserable fucking rat is guarding the hotel like the lowly dog he is.” Angel perked up upon hearing the name. He had forgotten about Alastor! And also the fact that he had sworn to protect the hotel. Valentino would be much more hesitant to attack the hotel with another overlord guarding it. “Heh, honestly, I don't know what he sees in that place. I have a slight suspicion that he might have a crush on the princess. Wouldn't that be hilarious?” _Yes, hilarious, and also incorrect,_ Angel thought as he remained silent. Alastor was obviously not into romance, at all. In fact, he seemed to treat Charlie as either a little sister or a daughter. He seemed to treat everyone this way, as if he were a father that knew better. Perhaps it was his way of compensating for what happened years ago.

Valentino’s eyes landed on Angel, and he stiffened. “Now, Angie, I have a little present for you.” With that said, he walked up to his desk and picked up the black box. The outside was beautifully decorated with intricate gold patterns on the black velvet, which only made Angel wonder what was inside. He wouldn’t let himself be fooled, though. Whatever was inside was bad news, and he was aware of that. Valentino would occasionally give him presents (and expensive ones at that), but he would never call him in the office just for that. This was meant to throw him off, make him feel safe, but it did exactly the opposite.

Valentino slowly opened the box and pulled out the object inside. When Angel finally saw what had been inside, his heart started beating so rapidly that he thought he was going to faint there and then.

It was a needle.

No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO, NO, _NO,_ **_NO_ **—

Angel Dust could feel his heart rate accelerating every five seconds, his face burning as the blood rushed to his ears, leaving him unable to hear anything but his beating heart hammering inside his chest. His breathing was uneven, and he tried his best to not hyperventilate, but his efforts were in vain. The amount of oxygen was more than he could handle, and he could feel himself dropping to the ground, lightheaded and dizzy, hitting the wall behind him. Angel hadn’t noticed the tears spilling down his cheeks until one hit the ground, followed by a cascade. His hands were tightly clenched into fists as his eyes were fixated on the pointy needle in front of him. It was just like he last remembered. The rush of adrenaline running through his veins as he hastily poked the needle through his skin and into his vein, injecting the drugs that he knew would kill him. He remembered the increasing euphoria, the vivid hallucinations of his family screaming every insult possible at him, followed by the painful breathing, his chest feeling like it was on fire, the incredible fatigue, and the continuous begging for it to just be over, for him to just die. Those memories flashed inside his head, mocking him, taunting him.

Valentino approached him with the needle, and Angel Dust felt his breath hitch. For a moment, it was like he had forgotten how to breathe. “Do you know what that is, Angie, baby, sweetheart?” Angel couldn’t respond. He didn’t even really acknowledge the question. He was too out of it to think of anything but the needle, which he was still staring at. It felt like, if he looked away for just _one second,_ it would find its way into his vein. “This is a needle filled to the brim with the finest PCP, perfect for an overdose. Brings back memories, doesn't it?” It did. It did and he hated it. But he hated himself the most.

At this point, all he could do was beg.

“Boss, p-please—”

“Quiet!” Valentino’s voice boomed through the office. Angel flinched once again. “I'm sure you're as elated about this as I am! After all, you love angel dust, don’t you? It’s your name and all! Won't it be fun to experience that again? The feeling of dying over and over?” Angel didn’t even notice Valentino’s hands caressing his right arm until his fingers turned into claws and he ripped apart Angel’s sleeve, exposing his elbow pit. Valentino knew a lot of things about Angel Dust, including the way he died, and how. He even knew what arm he used. And right now, all Angel knew was that there was a needle dangerously close to his vein. The spider closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was going to happen. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t—

_CRASH._

Angel’s eyes snapped open as he flinched upon hearing the loud sound. There was no needle in his vein. Instead, Valentino had tossed the needle right beside him, letting it hit the wall and shatter into pieces. The liquid inside was splattered throughout the floor, making a mess on the carpet. And yet, Angel still couldn’t take his eyes off the needle that was now in the middle of all of this chaos, sitting there, taunting him. He heard Valentino chuckle, and slowly turned to face his boss, eyes wide and full of fear. The adrenaline coursing through his veins had not worn off. He wasn’t sure if it ever would. “I’m just joking, Angie, baby,” Valentino said, putting a hand on Angel’s chin, as if that was somehow comforting. It wasn’t. His boss approached him slowly, closing the distance between them, and Angel could smell his breath; it had to be cigarettes. “You don’t think I’d to that to my favorite slut, now do you?” Angel remained deadly still as Valentino nuzzled his neck, suddenly licking it. Ah, there it was. He knew this wouldn’t end well, but for entirely different reasons. Valentino could feel Angel’s jugular vein throbbing, indicating his plan had worked. “Your fear is delicious, my little caged bird.”

He received only silence for an answer. It didn’t matter, though, because he had gotten the reaction he wanted. Valentino began to unbutton his coat, while doing the same to Angel’s attire.

“Now this is where the real fun begins.”

**_. . ._ **

Angel Dust curled up on his bed, used and scarred.

Fat Nuggets slowly waddled up to him and rubbed his nose on Angel’s hand. The spider jumped a little, adrenaline still coursing his body, but quickly realized there was no threat, only his loveable little pig. Picking him up and putting him in his lap, Angel finally allowed himself to silently cry. He would have taken the physical punishment over this. It was more than humiliating. It was _traumatizing._ The sight of the needle was still in the back of his head. It looked exactly like the needle he used in that fateful day. Well, why wouldn’t it? It was Valentino’s intent to scare him shitless. He _knew_ Angel had a phobia of needles. He knew and he used it to his advantage. He… No, it was _his own_ fault. If he weren’t such a coward he might have just been able to take it. Why couldn’t he just _not_ be afraid of a needle?! It was a goddamn needle! So why…? Why was he so afraid…?

_“Remember, Angie, you’re not leaving this studio until tomorrow morning.”_

Valentino’s words echoed in his head. He couldn’t leave and risk another punishment. But the others at the hotel would surely be worried. And Alastor… He didn’t know what Alastor would do, but it surely wouldn’t be anything good. He hadn’t brought his phone with him, in the rush to get away from the hotel, and even if he did, Valentino for sure would’ve confiscated it. He loved leaving his workers trapped in their rooms with no entertainment, just ruminating on their fears. The only reason he allowed Angel to have Fat Nuggets was that he himself did not like to have to take care of the pig. Angel couldn’t understand why he had bought the pig for him in the first place, then, if he hated him so much. That was no time to think about that, though. He needed to tell the others he was spending the night, but he had no phone, and was locked in his room…

Angel looked around the room, hoping to find any answers to his problem. There were no extra phones lying around. His room was dark, making it hard to see. Thankfully, Angel had really good vision. So far, he had no options at all to work with. His anxiety was back again, the walls feeling like they were closing on him. It didn’t matter that the room was huge; being trapped in it wasn’t pleasant. Fat Nuggets noticed his distress and nuzzled his stomach. Angel smiled a little and started petting him again. He leaned further against the wall, hoping it would just swallow him already. The fluffy covers around him were suffocating. They smelled like the same cologne Valentino used, which made Angel shake in fear as the memory of what had been done to him still burned in his mind.

Well, he had no other choice...

_“Molly, are you there?”_

She was quick to answer him, her voice ever-so-cheerful. Angel Dust wished he could share at least some of her enthusiasm.

_“Angel, hi! Did you need something?”_

_“I have a favor to ask.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Molly!
> 
> Bottom line is, Valentino is a jerk and he needs a slap in the face. Also, surprise! Angel has a needle phobia! More specifically, he has a fear of medical needles, the ones used to inject stuff into your veins. He's kinda fine with other sharp stuff. Writing about the phobia was easy for me because my little sister has a needle phobia and last time she had to draw blood she almost passed out. I think you guys can figure out why Angel is so afraid of needles. Poor guys, he needs some milk.
> 
> By the way, I did a lot of unethical research on how to overdose on PCP and how to inject PCP. I'm pretty sure Google thinks I'm planning a suicide. Ah, the woes of being a writer. Oh, and full disclosure, I have no idea if there are wolf conservation centers in the rural parts of New York, but just roll with it. Don't think too much about it. And we also have Angel struggling to find his place in the world: is he a Ragno? Is he not? Did Henroin disown him or not? What should he believe?
> 
> Today's chapter's name is from Neil Young's song, 'The Needle and the Damage Done'. Quite fitting, don't you believe? Hmm, I do wonder what Angel needs Molly for~
> 
> I'll see you guys in chapter 7!


	7. Here's to never growing up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth always finds a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am here! My god, this chapter is so big it's almost a crime lmfao
> 
> You guys might see me try and update more frequently. I am having family problems and writing is cathartic to me. Also, I swear I did not plan for this chapter to be 14,500+ words long, it just happened. It seems that every chapter I write becomes longer than the last lol. I'm sorry. I do hope you guys enjoy it, though!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND CANNIBALISM. MINOR BLOOD MENTION.

Charlie and the others had been eating lunch when they heard a loud knock on the front door.

The princess and her girlfriend exchanged glances. While in one glance there was worry and caution, in the other there was only curiosity to be seen. Before Vaggie could protest and tell her to be careful with whomever was waiting outside the hotel, Charlie was already on her feet and making her way to the entrance. While she would love for a new patron to join their crew, she was more concerned about Angel Dust. Alastor had told her he had spotted the spider leaving the hotel in a hurry without bothering with an explanation and instead just mentioning his boss, Valentino, and nothing else. Charlie wasn’t an expert on overlords, but she knew a lot of things, and one of those things was that Valentino was a ruthless demon. He didn’t go easy on his workers at all, especially his favorites, and since Angel Dust fit in that category, that meant he was much more at risk of running into trouble than your average sinner. Still, even if he couldn’t make it to breakfast, she had hoped he would at least arrive for dinner. In one swift motion, Charlie opened the door, and her eyes were immediately assaulted by a barrage of white and pink coming from a tall spider demon, but not the one she was looking for. Instead of seeing Angel Dust standing at the door with his usual grin and a random excuse, she found herself face-to-face with a semi-identical copy of her star patron, but not quite like him. If she wasn’t none the wiser, having known Angel long enough to be able to recognize his aura anywhere, she would’ve guessed this was him dressed in drag.

“Ah, can I help you?” Charlie asked, still taken aback but trying not to show it in her voice. It was her duty to be courteous and polite, representing the hotel’s ambience of benevolence and happiness. Now that the initial shock had worn off, Charlie was left with her initial sense of curiosity. Who was this girl, and why did she look so much like Angel Dust? In retrospect, this was a rather dumb question. She must’ve been related to him, of course! But what was the relation? Was she a sister? A cousin? Looking at her physical appearance in a second glance, it was clear she was a little different from Angel. Instead of three sets of arms and only two legs, she had two of each, and Charlie simply couldn’t understand how one could walk with four legs, but if Angel’s relative got here, it meant she had managed to make it work. She was tall, as tall as Angel was, and wore a different outfit; rather than pink and white, she decided pink and black suit with white accents suited her better. One of the main differences between her and Angel Dust was her eyes: his gaze was smart and mischievous; hers was soft and curious. Speaking of which, the girl blinked, looking down at the princess with mutual interest.

“Hi! Is this the, uh, Hazbin Hotel?” she asked, her voice smooth but assertive, giving her an air of confidence. Charlie almost hadn’t noticed she had been asked a question, finding herself entranced by this copy of Angel in front of the hotel. However, when she finally snapped out of it and was going to answer, the princess found herself being pulled back and behind Vaggie, who was brandishing her holy spear like her life depended on it. Charlie always found it rather strange how suspicious her girlfriend was of everyone. While there were demons around to be feared, not all demons were trying to kill them. Vaggie did not seem to understand this concept. This poor girl did not even remotely look like a threat, with her serene smile and doe eyes. She jumped back slightly as her gaze landed on the spear Vaggie was pointing at her, her smile wavering a bit. Charlie did not blame her for being scared. Every single patron of the Happy Hotel (which Alastor still refused to change the name of) had gone through the same ritual of being threatened by Vaggie.

“Who’s asking?” the moth demon barked, her grip on the spear’s shaft tightening slightly as she adjusted her aim. Charlie immediately decided to put an end to this by grabbing the edge of the shaft, near the spearhead, and slowly putting it down, giving her girlfriend her signature ‘I’m disappointed’ glare. She understood Vaggie’s intentions, she really did. Hell was a dangerous place, full of dangerous demons who could harm them if they weren’t careful. However, the objective of the Happy Hotel was to rehabilitate demons regardless of their sins, and brandishing a pointy object that could end their whole existence in their faces would definitely make them less likely to want to join the hotel.

“Vaggie, we already talked about the spear.”

“Charlie—”

“Vaggie,” Charlie said, now giving her the ‘please stop’ look. “Please drop the spear.” Vaggie wanted to disagree — her girlfriend’s dissatisfaction was worth in exchange of saving her life — but she knew things were serious when Charlie used these types of glares. It was rather unlike her to resort to this one, though, so, with a groan that clearly showed her displeasure of having to abide by the request, Vaggie slowly lowered her spear, eyes still glued on the newcomer that looked eerily similar to a certain foul-mouthed spider she knew. “Thank you.” Charlie then spun on her heels and turned to the stranger on the door, a nervous smile plastered on her face as she clapped her hands together. She was surprised to see the sinner was still there instead of simply having fled as soon as the spear was within sight. That’s what most people did. “I’m really sorry about that!”

“Don’t worry about it,” the girl told her with a chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. “Not the first time I’ve been threatened with a holy weapon.” She said it in such a lighthearted manner that it sounded like an everyday event for her, but Charlie found it rather odd. It wasn’t every day that one used a holy weapon, since they were really rare and expensive, and the girl seemed to treat the event in such a nonchalant manner that it was almost frightening. What had this woman gone through? “Besides, Angel told me about you, Vaggie, and he said you wouldn’t stab me if I didn’t make any sudden movements. Like dealing with a tiger!” Vaggie’s eye widened upon noticing the girl mention her name. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to her; she was well-known for being Charlie Magne’s girlfriend. But she was rather jumpy at the moment, especially since she was dealing with a stranger who seemed to know a bit too much about her. “Also, it’s my first time seeing a holy spear! Looks brand new, too. You seem to take really good care of it— ah, where are my manners? The name’s Molly! I’m Angel Dust’s twin sister.” Charlie resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air. She knew it! Well, this wasn’t actually something to celebrate, because it was kind of obvious, but still…

“It’s nice to meet you, Molly!” Charlie said cheerfully. “Come in, please!” she invited, stepping aside so that Molly could enter. The spider nodded, walking in. Vaggie was still wary of her, but less so now that she knew who she was. “I’m a little surprised you recognized the spear as a holy weapon right away. Did Angel tell you?” She wanted to know everything about Molly. She didn’t even know Angel had a sister! He barely told them anything about himself, except for a few select things he knew wouldn’t be relevant. She wondered if Molly would tell her more about his family. Did Angel have any more siblings? What about his parents? This was all so fascinating!

“Nah, he didn’t tell me shit, that bastard,” she answered, but her voice was full of fondness. Charlie did not have any siblings, so she didn’t know how they interacted with each other. Was it normal for siblings to call each other names? If Molly was doing it, then maybe. “He left me to figure it out by myself. But my family deals with holy weapons, so I’ve seen my fair share of them.” Charlie now had more information than ever. So Angel Dust’s family dealt with angels’ weapons. That was new. “I’m surprised you got a spear. Those are rare. Angels are more keen on guns and stuff, since they’re easier to handle, have a bigger range, and can kill more people with one single shot. Spears are short-range weapons, which means getting close to your target, risking being harmed yourself, and then having to clean blood from your clothes, which is a pain in the ass.” Vaggie looked at her own weapon. Everything that Molly had said was true, from the explanation of why holy guns were more common to the comment about having to clean blood from her dress every once in a while. It was surreal to suddenly be listening to a weapons expert, especially since Angel seemed to be anything but.

“Why are you here?” Vaggie asked, only allowing herself to lower her guard a little bit. Molly seemed harmless, even if she knew quite a lot about holy weapons. It didn’t look like she was carrying one herself, especially with how tight her suit was. If there was space there to fit a gun of some kind, then the laws of physics simply eluded her. “I’m assuming you aren’t here to make small talk.” Molly’s smile widened as a chuckle escaped her lips.

“You’re smart, girl. I like you,” she replied. Vaggie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. “Angel asked me to come here to talk to a certain someone.” Just as she said that, a few patrons who had been patiently sitting at the kitchen table eating their lunch noticed Charlie and Vaggie were taking too long for their liking, while others simply didn’t care. So now, joining them in the living room were Alastor, Niffty, and Mimzy. The three of them were rather surprised to see Molly standing there, simply smiling at them. They had gotten so used to seeing Angel Dust that looking at the reverse was giving some of them whiplash. “Seems like we got company.” Molly watched, interested, as the small cyclops’s eye widened and she dashed around her without stopping, all while asking rapid-fire questions without taking a single breath (an amazing feat).

“Hi! Who are you? You're a woman! What's your name? I like your clothes! You're so tall—”

“Now, now, Niffty, darling, let's not overwhelm the newcomer with questions,” Alastor said, using his cane to stop her on her tracks. Niffty pouted, but didn’t protest as she obediently went back to his side. It was then that his eyes met with Molly’s, and he slowly came to the realization of what he was about to have to deal with. It seemed like the spider in front of him had the same thought, although she was much more prepared than he was.

“Ah, Alastor, we meet again,” she declared dramatically. All eyes went from her to Alastor, everyone hoping from an explanation from either of them. The deer did not back down. In fact, this seemed like an opportunity to have some fun.

“Do I know you?” he asked, tilting his head as innocently as he could.

Molly simply rolled her eyes, having already heard about this exact exchange from Angel’s dramatic retelling of what went down during Alastor’s arrival at the Happy Hotel, and how he practically obliterated a dirigible without even sweating. “I'm not falling for that, you bastard rat.” Her reply may have been a bit rude, but her voice conveyed a hint of humor that indicated the was joking. Everyone else’s gazes went from Alastor to Molly, watching in awe as managed to insult the famous Radio Demon without being annihilated on the spot. Alastor did not even move an inch, his expression calm but unreadable. “You know what I'm talking about. Besides, you're the guy I'm looking for anyway.” Molly reached inside the pocket on her suit and pulled out a slightly crumpled letter, gripping it lightly in between two fingers and offering it to him. “Angel told me to deliver this to you.” Without saying anything, Alastor picked the letter, staring at it for a minute before stuffing it inside his pocket. Molly ran a hand through her silky hair. “Anyway, my job here’s done.”

“Wait, you two know each other?” Mimzy asked, giving Alastor a confused look. She was aware of the fact that Alastor knew other people besides her and Rosie, but she didn’t expect him to associate with Angel Dust’s family members.

“Yup!” Molly replied instead, sounding very excited to explain the reason why. Alastor’s warning glare did not deter her one bit. “You don’t just forget the guy who threatened your dad with a gun like that, you know? That was one hell of a day, I’ll tell you what.” Once again, all eyes were on Alastor. There was only shock to be seen in their glances. It wasn’t that surprising, though, considering Alastor had never told them that story at all, almost as if he knew it would upset Charlie and decided not to mention it. There was only a moment of silence before someone spoke up, that someone being Vaggie, who, in one swift motion, pointed her spear at him. It wasn’t really a gesture of intimidation, though, but one of accusation, like pointing a finger at someone, but more effective and deadly.

“You threatened someone with a fucking gun?!” she snapped, feeling her brain cells dying in record speed.

Alastor used his cane to lower her spear, knowing this was going south incredibly fast. “I only did what Charlie told me to do, dear: fetch Angel Dust. I assumed the method used to do so would be at my discretion.” All eyes fell on the princess, hoping she would say something as the blame suddenly lied on her. Charlie raised her hands in the air, looking at Alastor with what seemed like betrayal and shock.

“I didn’t think you’d do something like that!”

“Guys,” Molly interrupted, her voice flat, having dropped her smile. “Y’all don’t need to blame each other. It’s not like the guy killed someone. I mean, he _almost_ did, and that takes some guts, but my dad’s still alive. Slightly traumatized? Maybe, but he’s still alive and kicking. Besides, I gotta thank him.” Her eyes locked with Alastor’s. “So thanks. For everything.”

Four simple words. That was all it took for Alastor to realize one simple thing: she _knew._ Molly Ragno had been the first to know the secret. Alastor and Angel had once discussed what they would say if others found out, and they had also discussed how they would tell those close to them, should push come to shove. They had come to an agreement that, if there was a need to tell someone they trusted with the secret, then they should, at their own discretion. It seemed like Angel had found someone he trusted, and what a person he chose, indeed. Molly seemed trustworthy. She deeply cared for Angel Dust, and seemed indifferent at worst to Alastor, and mildly amused at best. Besides, it seemed like she didn’t hold a grudge on him for threatening her father with a holy gun, which was nice. Alastor did wonder how they communicated with each other if Angel did not have his phone. If he was offered one phone call at the Porn Studios, like in jail, why would he simply not call the hotel directly instead of having his sister come all the way from the Wrath Circle to deliver a letter (whose contents still remained unknown to him)? Did Angel even know the number to the hotel, though? All of these things could contribute to the current situation they found themselves in. He didn’t really mind, though. Meeting Molly formally was proving itself to be one great source of entertainment so far!

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mimzy piped up, raising her hands as if this would stop time. “What did you do now, Alastor? This girl can’t possibly be thanking you for pointing a gun to her dad’s head.”

“I’m afraid I cannot tell you, Mimzy,” Alastor answered, shaking his head. “Not yet.” While he wished he could tell her, as she was one of his closest friends, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that quite yet. There was something about having to explain to her how everything transpired and then having to have her swear secrecy that sounded unappealing at the moment, because it would be too much work. Besides, he had to tell Angel about it. He wanted to make sure he was comfortable with it, since he would be affected more by this than Alastor would. While the Radio Demon’s reputation could take a hit, Angel’s life would literally be in danger. He wasn’t an overlord, and was physically quite delicate (even if he compensated by being great at fighting, agile, and having a freakish super-strength), which made him more vulnerable to attacks and kidnappings from his enemies. So far, he could count with the fact he had no one he truly cared about to be used as leverage against him, but that was before this whole ordeal happened. Alastor now had to live with that fear for the rest of his afterlife, and it was then that he finally understood what anxiety was.

“I have a question,” Charlie announced, politely raising one hand. “Where is Angel right now?”

Molly bit her lip, as if this question physically hurt her. “Well, you know Valentino?” Charlie nodded, already predicting where this was going. “Yeah, so that bastard’s holding Angel against his will inside the studio right now. He’ll only be able to leave tomorrow morning.” Charlie’s face fell. Angel had talked about his boss before, how ruthless and no-bullshit he was. She could notice the red flags right away, but it seemed like Angel didn’t really get the memo. Vaggie allowed her spear to slide down her hand and the bottom of the shaft hit the floor with a loud ‘thud’, getting everyone else’s attention.

“Angel’s phone was on his bed when I went there this morning. How did you talk to him?” she asked, her voice accusatory. Molly did not look bothered.

“You’ll have to ask him that,” she told the smaller girl.”Who knows? Maybe he’ll tell you.” She then picked up her phone from her pocket (the one opposite to the pocket where the letter was stored) and checked the time. “Ah, I gotta go now. If I don’t, Arackniss will have a fit. Anyway, I’ll see you guys some other day, maybe!” Without waiting for their response, she spun on her heels and left. It was easy, since the door had been unlocked, or else this would have been a really bad move. The other five demons in the room were left stunned, still processing what just happened. Charlie, Vaggie, Mimzy, and Niffty were all still shocked from having met Molly, Angel’s twin sister, and Alastor had to process the fact that someone else outside from him and Angel knew their secret.

“Well,” Charlie said, still slightly bewildered. “I guess that was that. Let’s go back to eating lunch, everyone.” She started pushing all of them towards the kitchen, with the exception of a certain deer demon, who didn’t move from his spot.

“Actually, Charlie, dear...” Alastor leaned against his cane. “I must go to my room now. I assume this letter is important if Angel went through all of this trouble to have it delivered. Worry not, though! I’ll make it up to you by cooking tomorrow’s dinner.” He assumed Charlie had said something, but he didn’t listen at all, as he wasn’t asking her permission to leave, but rather informing her of what he was about to do. It seemed like the dinner thing would be a good compromise anyway. Using his teleportation ability (something he could only do on short-range locations), he made his way to his room. Being greeted with a carpeted floor and red walls was a relief, and eased his headache. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was concerned for Angel Dust’s safety. Valentino wasn’t exactly known for keeping his employees intact when he was done with them, much like a puppy playing with a teddy bear. One thing he could count on was that Angel had worked for Valentino for years, which meant he had built up an endurance to his punishments, or so he hoped. Picking up the letter from inside his jacket, the analyzed the outside. He could tell right away Angel had never touched this letter by the scent alone. This wasn’t his son’s scent, but Molly’s, which meant she had been the one to write it. Had Angel asked her to write it? Without wasting anymore time, he tore it open and read its contents.

_“Dear Alastor,_

_I am to be held in Valentino’s studio until tomorrow. Please refrain from going apeshit. Your cooperation is acknowledged and greatly appreciated._

_My highest regards,  
_ _Angel Dust.”_

Alastor chuckled. It was so typical of Angel Dust to write a letter like this. Or, well, in this case, to tell his sister to write it for him. It was interesting that Angel went through all of this trouble just to deliver him something that Molly could have directly told him. Well, it would certainly be strange for her to tell him in particular not to go apeshit in front of the others, as they didn’t know about their relationship. There would be assumptions, and those assumptions would most certainly not be correct. He was starting to understand Angel’s train of thought. Opening one of his drawers, he carefully put the letter inside, under a few unimportant documents, remembering to lock it well in case someone decided to try snooping in (which was highly unlikely). Well, for the time being, he would have to simply abide by Angel’s request. He would _not_ go apeshit.

Today.

**_. . ._ **

“Okay, so... I have a new theory.”

Charlie was now once again sitting on one of the chairs that formed a circle around the room where the group therapy took place. Everyone was present, including Angel Dust, who had been absent from any and all activities the previous day, due to unforeseen circumstances. His arrival had been received without much fanfare, which was probably for the best. Seeing him and the way he portrayed himself, it seemed like the last thing the spider demon wanted was to attract attention to himself, as unnatural and out-of-character as that sounded. Charlie knew Valentino had that effect on his workers, and unfortunately there was nothing that could be done, unless by some miracle the overlord grew a heart and decided to cancel the contract himself. However, everyone knew that wasn't happening, neither now nor ever. For the time being, the best Charlie could do was support her friend emotionally, and hopefully help heal his trauma to the best of her ability. It would be hard, because Valentino seemed intent on opening new scars while the others healed, or simply tearing apart the stitches that held the old ones together. It was cruel and unneeded, but it was what was 'required' to keep his employees in line. Charlie thought that, to put it simply, this was bullshit. Valentino enjoyed toying with his victims before tearing them apart, like a wolf that wasn't quite hungry, but wasn't keen on letting its victim go to waste. His predatory behavior was atrocious and repulsive, and Charlie couldn't help but feel sorry for Angel for getting caught up in this mess.

“A new theory?” Mimzy asked, curious. She was one of the few people who wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of group therapy, and instead found it kind of fun. A few of them could agree with that. Honestly, watching everyone else bicker over their emotions was an entertaining pastime, at least according to Alastor. All eyes were on Charlie, a few other demons also interested on this new ‘theory’. It wasn’t unusual for the princess to try different methods of therapy on them. Some failed, some kind of succeeded, but they were all taken from therapy books that Charlie read in her spare time. She was really putting in the effort to make this an enjoyable experience that one could learn from, and they had to at least give that to her.

Charlie’s eyes started twinkling in excitement, and everyone started bracing themselves for a ramble. “I've been analyzing a few books about demon psychology in the library, and there's something I've been asking myself: do demons age after they die? I mean, aging depends on memories and experiences, but does your brain remain the same? Is your personality altered? This is something I've been dying to know, so I propose we use today's group therapy as an experiment. I hope you guys don't mind.” Bottom line was, no one understood anything (with the exception of a certain scientist). In fact, a few of them started dozing off as soon as she started talking. However, this was still miles better than what they usually did in group therapy, so the agreement was pretty much unanimous.

“Sounds more interesting than talking about our feelings and shit,” Crymini said, crossing her legs and leaning further against her chair in a way that it started tipping backwards. Tempting fate had always been her thing, and she wasn’t going to stop now just because she was trapped in a room with a bunch of demons she hated.

Baxter followed soon after, adding, “I am also fascinated by this theory! I'm not very knowledgeable in psychology, but I could get on board with this.” _Well, at least someone’s sharing Charlie’s excitement,_ Vaggie thought. There was a chorus of groans. Of course the crazy scientist would be on board with an unusual experiment. The good thing was that he wasn’t dissecting anyone alive this time.

Charlie was almost jumping with joy. She had seriously expected them to put up more of a fight, especially since this involved sensitive information such as ages, but it seemed like things were going in her favor so far. “Great! Now, according to one book I've read, it says that experiences are largely shaped by age and brain chemistry. Do you guys mind telling me your ages of when you died? I know this is a little insensitive, but it's necessary for the question.” She didn’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable. If Charlie was being honest, this took her a lot of courage to do. She had been curious for a while about how brains worked in hell, as there were no conclusive studies that proved one stops mentally aging in hell, but she didn’t really know if this would be appropriate for a group therapy session. In fact, the only reason she gathered enough courage to do this was that she figured out science might help her. If she understood everyone’s ages, she could better prepare to help them. After all, the needs of someone in their twenties was different from someone in their eighties. Besides, she didn’t want her patrons to think she was using them for a scientific experiment, which is why it took her a few weeks of inner struggle to finally decide to simply do it and pray for the best. Thankfully, things had gone smoothly. Well, for now.

Vaggie knew no one would speak up if someone else didn’t push them in the right direction, so she decided to be the first one to say it. “Twenty-two.” It was young, very young, but nothing too shocking. Lots of people died in their twenties. And, well, some of them were closer to her than she realized.

“I died at twenty-two too!” Niffty exclaimed, smiling innocently and kicking her legs back and forth in the chair that she was just barely able to climb every time she entered the room. “This is fun!” Well, at least one of them was entertained.

“Wow, that's so interesting! Hang on, let me write this down.” Charlie pulled out the clipboard and a pen that she had put under her chair and started writing down the ages so she wouldn’t have to rely on muscle memory to remember them later. “Anyone else?” There was only silence for a moment as everyone stared at each other, almost as if daring someone to speak up.

Alastor shook his head, as if he were being forced to deal with a bunch of toddlers who were just now starting to talk. In a sense, that's what it felt like. Seeing them interact everyday, fighting like little children over the most mundane things, it was a sobering experience that just made him wonder how they would compare to actual children. Group therapy was a surreal experience that he would definitely recommend to someone who was feeling bored and needed something to spice up their lives. The shit that went down sometimes was to die for! “Seeing as no one else seems to want to speak up, I shall make a brave sacrifice.” There was a long, almost comically dramatic pause. Alastor watched as the others eyed him, some with boredom and others (and by others he meant Charlie) with curiosity, wondering what he would have to say. The deer demon was no stranger to being the center of attention, which did not bother him at all. In fact, he savored every moment of it. Inside of him there was a tiny narcissistic need to be the star of the show, which was the reason for his boisterous and 'extra' personality. Where was he again? Ah, yes, the experiment. “Husk died at seventy-five.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Cymini and Angel Dust started laughing, not really expecting this kind of twist. The others just kind of stared at Alastor, unimpressed. However, there was one sinner amongst the crowd who was enraged. “What the fuck?!” Husk put his beer down (probably with enough force to crack it), something unusual for him. Ruffling his fur and feathers, he pointed an accusatory finger at Alastor, whose smile did not waver at the gesture, still calm and elusive as always. “Tell them your own age, not mine, you fucker!”

“Top ten anime betrayals,” Angel said in between giggles, and Crymini laughed harder, doubling over, almost wheezing with the lack of oxygen in her lungs. If glares could kill, Angel Dust would’ve been dead, reincarnated, and then killed once again. It’s not like he cared, though. He’s received worse glares.

“Fuck off, no one was talking to you.” Husk then proceeded to give him the middle finger. At this point, Angel could no longer control his laughter.

Alastor put a hand on his chest in faux hurt, as if Husk had just terribly offended him. “Why, Husker, I thought you knew my age! I am deeply disappointed in you.” The truth was that he couldn’t care less, but it was fun to watch Husk become red with rage as he suppressed the urge to grab the half-full bottle of cheap booze, set it on fire, and chuck it at Alastor’s general direction. It was even more fun to watch as he slowly calmed down and his gaze became dull, as if he had just given up on life.

“Oh, would you look at that, I appear to have lost the fuck I was supposed to give,” Husk replied, motioning to a general direction as if the fuck he had lost would be there. “Shame.”

“Bitch, me too,” Crymini added, having now regained her composure.

“Guys, please don't fight over this!” Charlie pleaded, her grip on the clipboard tightening. She really hadn’t expected things to crash and burn as quickly as they did. They were going so well, too. “No one has to tell me their ages if they don't want to. I only need a few for comparison.” She already had enough data that she didn’t need anymore ages, but it seemed like the damage had already been done.

“Ah, dear, but where would the fun be if only a few revealed such a thrilling secret?” Alastor asked, intent on keeping the drama alive. Things were just now getting interesting, after all! “If I must say it, I will. I died at twenty-one years of age. It was quite an eventful afternoon, really!” Alastor wouldn’t actually tell others how he died. Only Angel Dust knew what actually happened that fateful day, and it would stay that way as long as Alastor was there to say something about it. He trusted Angel to keep this a secret. Besides, it’s not like this would simply come up in a casual conversation. No one knew Angel knew this information either, which would mean he wouldn’t be their first option to ask. It was one of the reasons their relationship as father and son had to remain a secret. If it was out, not only was Angel at risk, but so were the secrets he kept with him. Alastor would do everything in his power to prevent anything like this from happening. The more he thought about it, the more coming out to others sounded unrealistic. Would they ever be able to tell anyone?

Alastor was snapped out of his trance by Vaggie’s voice, which was laced with incredulity. “Are you seriously telling me Niffty and I technically older than you?” Ah, he hadn’t thought about that. It was quite ironic, now that he thought about it, but it didn’t bother him too much. Alastor was never one to think about his death age, because it didn’t really matter. Even being twenty-one, he had been ahead of others his age in maturity and intelligence. It wasn’t bragging, it was simply the truth. “Charlie, are you sure this theory is correct and isn't just technical bullshit someone managed to turn into a book?” Vaggie asked her girlfriend, still unsure that this experiment actually had a leg to stand on. She did like to consider herself more mature than Alastor, but it was only a year’s difference. Nothing too major.

“That's what we're trying to figure out!” Charlie responded, trying to maintain her optimism. If the experiment proved to be null, then at least they could say they tried, right? “Anyone else?” she asked, wondering if anyone else would like to say something. If not, they still had some time to use on an actual group therapy.

“I stand by my theory that Angel is secretly two ten-year-olds in a trenchcoat,” Crymini said, crossing her arms and staring directly at the one she was talking about.

Angel snorted. That one was new. “In that case, I'll stand by _my_ theory that you're secretly older than Husk.” It was at that moment that everyone realized they were in the middle of a brewing argument, but there was nothing else that could be done. Angel and Crymini were two opposing forces that simply refused to give in. An unstoppable force versus an immovable object. Everyone in the room had witnessed countless arguments from them that surpassed Crymini’s dissing on Baxter. None of them ever won an argument, as it always ended in a tie, but they really tried with all of their might. At that point, no one knew if they were being serious or if this was an amicable rivalry. It was impossible to tell.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, pal, but I'm eighteen, a great age to be alive.”

“Not great enough to drink beer, though,” Angel replied, leaning against his chair and watching as Crymini narrowed her eyes at him. Nothing really stopped her from drinking in life and in death, but he took great pleasure in knowing that this was a solid comeback.

“Oh, really? You wanna mess with me now? Because I bet your daddy never even let you touch a bottle of wine.”

Angel didn't have the heart to tell her that the law that prohibited people under twenty-one to drink alcohol wasn't put into motion until long after he was dead. Well, he did have enough of a heart to actually tell her, but that wasn’t good enough of an answer and he had a sneaking suspicion that she simply wouldn’t appreciate the history lesson, or care. Without thinking, he said the first thing that popped into his head. That always worked out for him, so it definitely would work out here, right? “Bold of you to assume my dad cared that much about me.” Nope, this was a really bad response. It was a terrible response, and he should feel bad about it. And, well, it seemed like he had ruined the mood.

“Ouch,” Mimzy commented, wincing, as if this had physically hurt her. Maybe it had, who knew?

“Come on, Angel, everyone’s already said their ages. Just say yours so we can get this over with,” Vaggie pleaded, nursing a growing headache. She didn’t actually want to force Angel Dust to reveal his death age, because that was something very personal, but it would be more damaging than not to let this go on, because Crymini was a force to be reckoned with, and so was Angel Dust. Letting them argue with each other was like letting two toddlers fight each other with lightsabers. And, seeing as nobody would parent these two, she had to step up. Besides, she knew Alastor would insist on everyone revealing this about themselves because he was a bastard who did not care about anyone except himself. Vaggie would usually fight him on this, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious herself.

Angel rolled his eyes. “Mimzy and Baxter didn't.” He brought up a good point, Vaggie conceded. She turned to Mimzy and Baxter, who were once again sitting right next to each other. Everyone seemed to always sit on their original seats. It was weird, but at least they weren’t fighting over that. Thankfully for her, Mimzy was incredibly helpful.

“Oh, that's easy. Twenty-six,” she said, running a hand through her hair in pride. “I like to think I haven't aged a day since then.” Nobody paid attention to that comment, and instead turned to Baxter, who shrunk in his seat at the unexpected attention.

“Thirty-eight,” he managed to let out, doing of a good job of not letting his anxiety mess everything up. And then all eyes were on Angel again. He groaned.

“Goddammit, y'all aren't making this any easier, are you?”

Crymini smirked, savoring every second of his discomfort. “Scared?” she taunted, knowing he wouldn’t resist responding. And, well... He didn’t last three seconds.

“Scared of your ugly-ass face, maybe,” he immediately replied.

The wolf snarled at him, her expression hostile and dangerous. It seemed like the canines of hell had an advantage in the intimidation field, because no one liked being bitten by a dog. Crymini knew that baring her fangs at someone was a sure-fire way to get them to back off. “I'm going to rip your intestines out and use them to jump rope if you ever say that to me again.” She suddenly wasn’t in the mood for Angel’s jokes, especially his smart-ass answers, but it seemed like he didn’t get the memo.

“Kinky,” the spider replied with a grin. He wasn’t into women, but would seize any chance to turn a threat into an innuendo.

“Guys, seriously, drop it,” Charlie said assertively, knowing they were treading into a dangerous territory of ‘someone is going to get hurt and we don’t know who, but that’s the point: we don’t want to know’. It wasn’t the first time a fight had broken out during group therapy, but none of them went very far, so de-escalating them was easy.

“No, I'm gonna say it because I'm angry now! Fuck all of you,” Angel gave them the middle finger, saying it on impulse and immediately regretting it. He felt his face burn violently at the realization of what he just did, but thankfully his fur prevented anyone from seeing it. He had been so focused on his fight with Crymini that he didn’t stop to think about whether this was a good decision or not. The worst part was that he couldn’t lie. Everyone would catch on, because he was terrible at it. And, if they didn’t, they would find out in the long run, because he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. At this point, all he wanted to do was bury his face in the floor like an ostrich and die. “You see, um…” He gave Alastor a quick glance, eyes filled with panic, and the deer realized there was something terribly wrong. It was clear in Angel’s body language that he did not want to do this, and it made him curious as to why the answer was so bad. It was too late for Alastor to do anything, though. Angel Dust would have to swallow his shame and say it. “I died... When I was... Four… Teen...” At this point he was just whispering, too panicked to remember how to talk like a normal being. Thankfully (or not) he sat next to Vaggie, and she seemed to have caught onto what he was trying to say. Or, well she tried, because the result came out botched, like they were playing a game of telephone.

“Forty?” she asked, squinting. At this point, Angel had two choices: he could pretend this was what he intended to say and put the rest of the case in Satan’s hands, or he could come clean and admit out loud the true answer. If he lied, how would things go? People would be suspicious as to why he was so ashamed to answer in the first place and ask questions, and he would have to lie to them, which was a bloody terrible idea. The choice was clear in his head, especially since he only had one choice, really.

“Fourteen.”

Unsurprisingly, he was met with absolute silence, until someone dared speak, that someone being Charlie, who was staring at him with wide eyes, as if someone had just killed a puppy in front of her. She pressed her clipboard against her chest. “You... You died when you were fourteen?” she asked, her voice wavering. This was unbelievable. It had to be a joke, right? Angel liked jokes. This was probably one of his tasteless ones.

Angel shrugged, unsure of what to tell her. “Surprise...?”

“What the fuck?” Husk asked, as aghast as everyone else, his alcohol long forgotten.

Mimzy simply lost the ability to form a coherent sentence. ”I... You... How?”

Vaggie seemed like she was at the verge of having an apoplexy. “Oh my fucking god, Angel Dust is a child.”

Angel’s emotions went from shame to anger at that comment. He could be considered many things. Was he a dumbass? Maybe. Was he a whore? Totally. Was he handsome? Without a doubt. But he would never, ever consider himself a _child._ This was an insult plain and simple. “Ok, consider this: what if you went in that little corner right there and fucked yourself? That would make me very happy,” he told Vaggie, letting his emotion get the best of him. He really needed to check his impulsivity, because it was seriously going to kill him one day. He expected Vaggie to be angry and start cursing him out in Spanish, but she just stood there, staring at her own feet with a blank stare of perplexity at the absurdity of the situation. Which reminded him… Angel looked at Alastor, hoping to be able to know what his father was thinking this time (seeing as every other time it seemed like his face was a statue). Angel had slowly started to learn a lot of things about Alastor while they talked, especially his physical mannerisms and how to read them. With that, he learned that Alastor’s emotions should not be read through his lips, but through his eyes. And, right now, his eyes showed bad news. Alastor may have appeared emotionless to the untrained eye, but, to Angel, he was in absolute shock at this revelation, since Angel had failed to mention it, like, ever. 

Oh, he was _so_ grounded.

Crymini did not really see this as something shocking. Instead, it seemed like she saw nothing but an opportunity for more taunting. “Aw, are you cranky? Do you need a nap?” she said in a baby voice. Angel’s expression remained neutral as he watched her do this. Honestly, she was embarrassing herself more than she was embarrassing him, and that was really saying something.

“I'm starting to think you guys have no idea how teenagers work,” he stated. The thought of everyone seeing him as an innocent child that did not deserve eternal damnation was sickening. Everything about this was fucked up.

“I have no idea how adults work either!” Niffty piped up. It wasn’t that she was oblivious to the situation. She simply did not care. In fact, she could sympathize. Being so small, she was often confused for a young child by others, mainly sick perverts. Alastor was one of the few sinners that treated her with the dignity a young woman deserved. And, well, that was the reason she didn’t understand how other adults worked: because they saw someone short and treated them like a child. If someone were to be asked, between her and Angel Dust, to pick who the fourteen-year-old was, she would surely be their first choice. Weird.

Angel smiled, a sincere smile this time. At least that was funny. “Thanks for your contribution to the discussion, Niffty.” She smiled at him.

“You're welcome!”

Vaggie was currently having some sort of existential crisis, pressing both hands against her forehead in a futile attempt to prevent a headache from forming. “Why is no one questioning why a goddamn teenager, a literal child, can go to hell? What the fuck?” _And_ Angel was back to being offended. Again.

Mimzy raised an eyebrow. “Where else would they go? A holy daycare?” _Is this ‘insult Angel Dust’ day?_ Angel asked himself mentally as he watched the others discuss this without even inviting him to join the conversation, just like one did to a child. However, he was tired of insulting people and hoping they responded. In fact, doing this would prove itself to be even worse. They would see him as a child throwing a tantrum, or a hormonal teenager having a fit, which was unreasonable. First of all, children were allowed to be angry without being seen as throwing a tantrum. Besides, he _wasn’t_ a child. The others were throwing this word around so much that he himself had started believing it, which was just unacceptable. Angel had a lot of time in hell to grow and mature since he dropped in hell, young and scared at first. Once he had been taught the ropes of adulthood, it was over for everyone. Too bad no one in this room had been there to see him, because then they’d have to agree that he was one-hundred percent an adult with adult qualities and responsibilities. But, if no one was going to give him the time of the day anyway, why bother?

“I came here to have a good time and I'm feeling so attacked right now,” he said, throwing his head back while leaning against his chair. The only thing he could do in this situation was spout memes and hope the extermination came early so that he could be erased there and then to save himself from the torture that was the argument happening at that very moment.

He thought no one had heard him, but apparently a certain wolf did. “I came here to attack people and I'm having such a good time right now,” she replied with a grin. Angel wanted to blow a raspberry at her, but stopped himself upon realizing this would be seen as childish.

“Baxter, you're the scientist here. What's your stance on this?” Mimzy asked, turning to Baxter, who had been watching the discussion with passive interest until now. He jumped once his name was mentioned, snapping out of a trance he didn’t even realize he was trapped in. Blinking twice, he thought about the question, putting a hand on his chin. Now all eyes were on him, and he couldn’t say something dumb to discredit himself. He wondered if there even was something he could add to this conversation, and then he remembered that there _was_ a hint of science to this. Clearing his throat to make sure he had everyone’s attention (which was unnecessary seeing as everyone had been staring at him anyway), he began his explanation, trying to make it as understandable as possible.

“I'm more skilled with chemistry and numbers rather than biology, but I can work with this. If I can get an X-ray of the test subject’s frontal cortex, I could determine whether or not his brain is developed enough to be considered an adult's.”

Shivers ran down Angel’s spine at the mere thought of Baxter doing an X-ray on him at his poor excuse of a lab that was really just a dusty, long forgotten basement, and he used one hand to grip his hair, as if Baxter would steal his brain if he wasn’t careful. “Hell no. You’re not getting anywhere near my head.” He thought the scientist would be offended by this, but he remained unbothered.

“Then perish.”

That had been an unexpected response coming from him of all people. “I hope you realize this is the first and last time you'll ever say something this cool,” Crymini told him, not daring believe her ears. Baxter’s shoulders sagged. He, too, couldn’t believe what he just said. It was like he was possessed by a much cooler demon than him at the moment.

“Yeah, I figured.”

Angel ignored Crymini, focusing on Baxter’s comment. “Trust me, I really want to. Someone double-kill me.” At this point, he didn’t even know if he was being serious or not. He wouldn’t actively seek it out, but he wouldn’t fight it if an angel barged in and stabbed him in the chest.

“That reminds me…” Vaggie started, and Angel braced himself. He had learned to no longer trust her with any sort of question, ever. For half a second, it almost sounded like she didn’t really want to ask this, but he was sure it was just his imagination. “How did you even die in the first place?” The world seemingly stopped to Angel Dust for a moment as he tried to process the question. Should he answer honestly? The only other options were lie or deflect, and he was terrible at one of those. If there was one thing he learned from Florence Ragno, a shining beacon of light of a woman, was that the truth always found a way. And, in this moment, he wasn’t lying about something minor, like his favorite color. If the truth did find a way, it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Suicide.”

Vaggie was appalled. Angel couldn’t understand why. Had she never met someone who killed themselves? There was a bunch of them just waltzing around in hell. “Why?!”

He no longer had the energy to explain anything. It just seemed like, no matter what he said, he would be met with shock and pity. “Life speedrun,” Angel replied, hoping Vaggie would take the cue and leave him alone.

He had not expected Alastor to leave the room instead.

No one had expected it, really. They all watched, confused, as Alastor, his expression neutral as ever, swiftly got up from his chair, cleaned some dust from his suit, opened the door, and left, slamming it shut behind him. Angel was the only one who winced at the slam, a full-on flinch, wondering if he was the reason Alastor did this. Had he actually messed things up _this_ spectacularly? What now? A thousand scenarios ran through his head, each one worse than the next. What would Alastor do next? Would he scold Angel Dust? Worse, would he disown him? It was a possibility. He was so used to waiting for a parental figure to be disappointed in him that it didn’t even hurt that much now, especially when he knew it was coming. It was more of a dull pain, like being pinched while you’ve been shot. At some point, the pain just blends together to make a fucked-up milkshake of sadness and misery. And yet, despite it all, it _still_ hurt. Angel wasn’t ready to lose yet another father in his life, especially not due to a dumb mistake like this. He needed to talk to Alastor and figure out what he did wrong so he could apologize.

“Jeez, what crawled up his ass and died?” Crymini asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m going after him," Angel decided, getting up from his chair in a heartbeat. He was making a very poor job of making it seem like he wasn't just finding an excuse to leave the room as soon as possible. But he truly was worried for Alastor. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone in the room his concerns without it coming off as odd. Without waiting for anyone’s approval, he left the room, slamming the door behind him in the same way Alastor did. The others were left behind, dumbfounded and in the dark. Mimzy was the first one to break the silence.

“I believe I speak for all of us when I say: what the absolute fuck just happened here?” There was no answer for a brief moment, before Baxter shrugged and said:

“Science is just fucked up sometimes.”

**_. . ._ **

“Al?” Angel called out, but received no answer.

He had been trying to find Alastor for the past ten minutes, with no avail. It was like the deer had just vanished. He hoped he hadn’t. Angel needed to talk to him, needed to explain to him his motives for doing what he did. His mom had warned him about this. _“The truth always finds a way,”_ she said, and right now, he was the living proof that this was true. He wished there was a way to turn back time so he could fix his mistake. Maybe all of this could’ve been prevented if he had just shut up. He needed to learn that ability. _Focus!_ Angel mentally scolded himself, stopping in his tracks. He had been everywhere: the living room, his room, Alastor’s room (or the outside, at least, since it was locked), a bunch of bathrooms, a bunch more of other unrelated rooms, but there was no sign of the Radio Demon anywhere. Was there a room he had yet to check? _The kitchen,_ Angel realized. He dashed his way to the kitchen, wondering what he would say if he really found Alastor there. So far he had nothing. In any other day, he would simply let his mouth run and say whatever came to mind, but this proved itself to be a terrible idea by now. If there were two lessons Angel had learned the hard way, it was that: one, his brain was a little shit that refused to cooperate; two, his mouth was also a little shit that decided to give his brain leeway to say whatever fancied it. It was the worst combination of traits possible, and he would have to fix that. 

And also learn how to lie.

“Al…?” Angel’s voice was nothing but a whisper now as he slowly peeked inside the kitchen through the door. To his surprise, Alastor _was_ there. He was chopping bell peppers, and it was rather… Aggressive. Or at least that was how it came across to Angel, who flinched at the swift motion of the chopping that reminded him a bit too much of how his dad passive-aggressively chopped vegetables when he was mad at one of his children for whatever reason. Angel wanted to scream. Why did he have to carry his childhood trauma through his daily life? After taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Angel entered the kitchen, making his presence know. He anxiously asked a question that had been in his mind since Alastor walked out on everyone. “Are you mad at me?”

Alastor did not even move from his spot, continuing to chop away. “Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?” Angel wasn’t convinced at all by this. His father’s voice reeked of forced cheerfulness, and it was only fueling his anxiety. Why was he even anxious, though? There was nothing to be afraid of, right? _Actually, there are lots of things,_ Angel told himself, and immediately scolded his brain for making everything worse. Why couldn’t he get a fucking break?

“Because it looks like you're taking out your anger on those peppers there.” It sounded like a crazy argument. Nobody was able to tell someone else’s emotions through the way they chopped vegetables, and yet… The image of his adoptive father chopping onions in the living room after Angel suggested he _might_ be a boy flashed in his head like an intrusive thought, making the hairs in his arms instinctively stand up. _Oh shit,_ he thought, realization hitting him like a truck, _I had a terrible fucking childhood._

Alastor still refused to look at him, completely focused on the peppers he was chopping. Angel wasn’t sure how long he’d been in that kitchen for, and how long he’d been chopping those poor peppers for. “Oh, whatever do you mean? That's how I always chop peppers!” And then he slammed the knife down so hard on the cutting board that Angel was sure that the entire hotel must've heard it. It made him break into a cold sweat. The spider scolded himself for being so mentally weak. It wasn’t like Alastor was going to _stab him_ with that knife. There was nothing to be afraid of. Neither from Alastor, nor from Henroin. They were just cutting up vegetables. It was a normal thing to do, even if in silence and with an aura of anger. So why? Why was he so afraid? Henroin never hit him during those times. He simply stood there, knife in hand, chopping away vegetables in silent resentment. Arackniss had always been unaffected by this behavior, since he was never the target of his father’s anger, being the responsible older brother. The burden always lied on Molly and Angel, the troublemakers. For some reason, silent disappointment always seemed to be more effective than corporal punishment. The neverending anxiety of waiting for the physical discipline to come was what always got them to confess. Why prolong the inevitable, right?

Angel had nearly forgotten what he was going to talk about, and then he remembered why this whole chain of events had happened: his age. Oh, right. Angel racked his brain for a way to explain his decision, but it wasn’t easy to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence without it coming off as incredibly pathetic. What could he even say, really? The damage had been done, and now he was left to pick up the pieces. “Look, about my age…” He paused for a moment. Was he actually going to try and justify it instead of letting it go? Oh, who was he kidding. Of course he was. “I was going to tell you, I swear! I just didn't know how to, I dunno, soften the blow, I guess?” That didn’t sound right, even if it was true. What was he even supposed to tell Alastor about it? ‘Oh, and by the way, I killed myself as a teenager, so there’s that’? There was no way this would come up naturally in a conversation, even the weirder ones they had. “I'm sorry.” He didn’t want to admit that his apology sounded more like a plea for forgiveness than an actual apology.

Alastor sighed, putting his knife down and turning to his son. It was then that Angel realized his coat was gone. Instead, Alastor was just wearing what he usually wore under them. Perhaps it was for the best. Cooking did usually get messy. “Anthony, I am not mad at you.” Angel felt his heart skip a beat once his real name left Alastor’s lips. It just proved how serious he was about this situation to have his human name addressed. “I am…” Alastor paused, unable to describe his emotions. He had yet to get used to feeling such a broad spectrum of feelings. “... I’m unsure of what I am feeling right now, but I bear no ill-will toward you, I promise.” It was a genuine apology. So, if that was true, then why did he continue to feel uneasy, like Alastor was hiding something from him?

Angel never really considered himself to be one to have trust issues. There were a few people he trusted. Cherri Bomb, his best friend and partner in crime; Charlie, the princess having grown on him; maybe a few of his coworkers at the Porn Studios, as they proved themselves to be trustworthy and good friends, as well as great sources for gossip; and last but not least, Alastor himself. The list was quite sizeable. So why, deep down, did he believe that maybe, just maybe, he might have trust issues with other demons? He hated to think about it, but a good portion of the blame lied on Valentino. His boss had, ever since his first minute in hell, conditioned him to believe others were out to get him. To his credit, the majority were. Demons were ruthless. In a world where you’ll be taken advantage of if you’re not careful, being skeptical and having a hard time trusting someone were valuable skills. Valentino’s words echoed in his head, _“You’re so young, Anthony. So young and innocent and naive. You won’t last a day in here if you choose to keep that innocence intact.”_ Angel had initially been offended at that statement, as he was anything but innocent, but years in hell had taught him that yes, he was incredibly innocent back then.

Some part of him felt pure disgust at the thought of having to owe Valentino something, but he did, even if his methods had long lasting effects on his mental health that would never be reversed. He had learned a lot of things, including to never tell anyone his real age, not until years later. Demons would have a field day with a teenager, as they deemed them weak-minded and easy targets. Thankfully for him, not many sinners walked around asking each other their ages, because that was a great way to get punched in the face, but it was good to keep that in mind. And so, with a contract being made, Angel resigned himself to a fate of years of having to learn everything there was to know about hell, and how to avoid being culled. In the end, Valentino thought it would be appropriate to get rid of Angel’s perceived ‘innocence’ himself. This was one of Angel’s biggest regrets to date.

“Ok, I guess…” Angel responded absentmindedly, suddenly realizing he was still in a conversation. Alastor raised an eyebrow at this, since he was expecting Angel to put up more of a fight (not that he was hoping he did). Turning back to the task at hand, he picked the knife up again and used its side to put the chopped peppers inside of a pot. After that was done, he moved to the onions. While dicing them, Alastor tried to continue the conversation, but he skipped the small talk and went right into the problem.

“I can tell there's something else bothering you.”

Angel debated on what to do. Should he explain to Alastor what was really bothering him? He didn’t want to just dump all of his childhood trauma onto one person just like that. However, he had a sneaking suspicion that Alastor had already figured out what it was, because his dicing motions were much gentler and quieter than they used to be. Well, if it was going to be this way, he might as well just say it. Besides, Alastor had already proved he was trustworthy. “It's just the way that you're chopping those peppers…” Angel began to explain, running a hand through his hair. “I, um, Henroin used to do that a lot when he was angry at one of us. He would just loudly and passive-aggressively chop vegetables in silence. It gives me anxiety.” Should he have been so honest? Maybe he should’ve omitted the ‘passive-aggressive chopping’ part? Well, it was too late now.

“Oh, dear,” Alastor said, sounding worried. He didn’t really have anything of meaning to tell Angel, so he decided to make an offer instead. “Do you want to help me cook? Perhaps joining in might ease your mind?” Doing an activity like that would probably take his mind off of things for a moment, right? Well, he hoped so. Perhaps Alastor and Angel shared a passion for cooking? That wouldn’t be surprising. It seemed like they shared a lot of things in common, including their love of music and playing instruments, as well as their inability to make a rational decision like a normal human being.

Angel’s eyes lit up for a moment, and a smile made its way into his lips. “Sure thing.” He tried not to sound too enthusiastic about it, but it was almost impossible. If there was something he like doing, it was cooking, even if he particularly found it painful to eat the food itself. It was just something that he had been doing since he was young. Unfortunately for him, he was a walking disaster in the kitchen, having put fire on a dish cloth at least three separate times in a span of two days. He had been banned from many kitchens because of that. Thankfully for him, Alastor was there, and he probably knew how to not make things catch fire, so he could deal with the stove. Taking his gloves off his first pair of arms and putting them on the kitchen table behind him, he approached Alastor, waiting for instructions. He didn’t really know what the deer was cooking, so he had no idea of what he was supposed to do.

Alastor’s smile eased a bit at Angel’s enthusiasm. He was happy that his strategy worked. “Do you see those sausages there?” He used his knife to point at an unopened package of andouille sausages sitting on the counter. “I want you to slice four of them into rounds. Think you can do that?” Alastor hoped Angel could be trusted with a knife. Knowing his track record with weapons, at least he could count on his son not accidentally slicing his own throat.

“Sure,” Angel replied, walking up to the counter and opening the package. He had expected to already mess up this simple task, but, surprisingly, everything went smoothly. He picked another cutting board and started slicing the sausages to the best of his ability. That’s when a question popped up in his head. “Hey, here's a question: why are you cooking at three in the afternoon?” It was nowhere near dinnertime yet, and whatever he was cooking probably didn’t take five hours to prepare.

“Cooking is one of the many activities that soothes me,” Alastor explained, not taking his eyes off the two stalks of celery he was chopping. He was very focused on his task, but it was mundane enough that he was able to answer a simple question without thinking too much about it. “Given today's…” There was a brief pause. “... Events, I need something to keep me busy. Besides, I promised Charlie I'd make tonight's dinner, and there's no time like the present to fulfill that promise!” Angel understood that reasoning. Cooking was a means of catharsis to him as well. Honestly, just slicing uncooked sausages was making him feel more relaxed already. He couldn’t wait to see what would catch fire this time.

“Yeah, makes sense. What are you making?” he asked, stopping briefly after he almost cut his finger in a momentary lapse of judgement. That wouldn’t be good. Why did Alastor even entrust him with a knife in the first place?

“Jambalaya, of course!” Alastor responded, as if that wasn’t the most obvious answer in the world. Angel Dust chuckled as he continued working.

“I don't know why I asked.” The two of them worked in silence for a moment, but Angel wanted to keep talking. It felt good to talk to Alastor, especially when they were back-to-back like this, one of them chopping celery and the other slicing sausages. That is when a faint memory from the depths of his mind came to light, something that Alastor said a long time ago. “Hey, didn't you once say that your mom almost died making Jambalaya? How did that happen anyway?” Angel didn’t even know how he managed to remember something so obscure. It was just in his nature to remember useless things, it seemed. It went well with the fact that sometimes he forgot his own name.

Alastor smiled fondly at the memory, even if it was slightly blurred by the fact that he was nothing but a child back then. “Ah, that's simple. You see, when I was seven, we decided it would be a good idea to cook Jambalaya for the first time. Philippe hated shrimp, so my mom had never cooked if before. After he left us, we decided to have a spite party where we did everything he hated, including cooking Jambalaya.” Angel laughed out loud. He loved the idea of a ‘spite party’. Margot sounded like a great woman to be around, especially if she was the one who came up with that idea. But who knew, really? Maybe seven-year-old Alastor shouldn’t be underestimated. “It was a great night. As it turns out, my mom is allergic to shrimp _and_ she didn't know how to cook Jambalaya, because the pan exploded. To my luck, I was on the living room, far away from the accident,” Alastor explained, trying to remember as much as possible. He did remember not being there for the explosion itself, but hearing the loud sound and almost having a heart attack. “My mother’s clothes never recovered from the damage.”

“How did that even happen?”

“I'm unsure. It's one of the many things I used to never let her live down,” Alastor said with a laugh.

“Damn. My cooking stories aren't nearly that interesting,” Angel complained, even though he had quite a few things of his own to tell. “One time I set, like, five separate things on fire in one night. Cherri was very impressed, but she doesn't let me cook in her apartment anymore, which is fair, I guess,” he said with a shrug. Honestly, this was more hilarious than anything. At this point, him being banned from cooking duty in various places was a common occurrence. Everyone could agree that his food was delicious, but the cleaning afterwards wasn’t worth it. Angel didn’t even know how he managed to fuck everything up so spectacularly, especially when Molly, Florence, and Alastor were so tidy when cooking. Molly had never set anything on fire, ever! Even Arackniss, who was terrible at cooking, could keep the place semi-clean. Maybe he was outlier in this mixed family of neat people.

Alastor considered this new information as he put the celery aside and moved onto the shrimp. Thankfully, he didn’t inherit his mother’s allergy. Jambalaya just wasn’t the same without it (but, of course, he used to cook it without shrimp just for his mother, because she asked for it). “I'll make a mental note to not ever let you near the stove.” Angel Dust rolled his eyes, even if his father couldn’t see it. He felt like Alastor was just being dramatic, despite the fact that he himself had agreed that he should not be within a fifty-foot radius of anything flammable.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“It's not about confidence,” Alastor said. “If you set anything on fire, Niffty is going to steal the caps off your knees.” Angel had completely forgotten about Niffty. She was really nice and sweet, but messing with her kitchen would earn someone a death glare that could turn someone to dust. Despite being small, she was surprisingly vicious. _Yup, don’t wanna mess with that,_ Angel thought. He continued to focus on the sausages. At least they wouldn’t spontaneously catch fire.

“Fine, I'm not going near the stove,” the spider relented, turning around to grab a pot to put the sliced sausages in. He paused a bit to see Alastor’s progress. The deer was working much faster than him, peeling shrimp in record time as if he’d been doing this his entire life. Angel decided to ignore that as he made his way to the counter, grabbing the cutting table and raising it up to dump the sausages inside the pot using the knife. “I'll let you know, though, you're missing out on my amazing ability to fuck things up without even trying.” Angel knew this could technically count as a superpower. He’d heard a lot of people say they’ve never seen something similar, even if it was said in a negative light.

Alastor scoffed, as if he wasn’t believing what he was hearing. “I witness it every day.” Angel wasn’t at all offended by this. He actually found it rather funny. Besides, it was true. He was a walking disaster on high heels. He knew it didn’t make sense to be proud of something like that, but if Spencer Shay could live his life normally, then so could he.

“Yeah, but this disaster is cooking edition!”

Alastor did not respond for a second. “Did you really come up with a name for it?” Angel chuckled. Why should he _not_ come up with a name for it?

“What can I say? I'm extra.”

And that’s when something unexpected happened. “Hi extra, I'm dad.” Angel’s eyes widened as he whipped his head around to give Alastor a horrified glare. He really thought the deer would be above dad jokes, yet here they were. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him, as he didn’t even know what to say in this situation. There turned out to be no need for that, though, because Angel Dust suddenly felt a sharp sting in his index finger, and that’s when he realized he had taken his eyes off the knife. He quickly turned back to the cutting board and felt his breath catch as he spotted a small string of blue blood beginning to leave his finger. He quickly withdrew his hand, pressing it against his chest, searching for any signs of blood on the sausage. Thankfully, they were clean. The knife, however, was still partly covered his the viscous blue blood. Angel cursed his luck. Of course something was going to go wrong. He just didn’t expect it to be at his expense.

“Fuck, I cut my finger.”

“Let me see.” Alastor put the shrimp he was peeling down and spun on his heels, making his way to Angel who was dramatically holding his hand to his chest as if his finger had been severed instead of lightly cut. Angel allowed Alastor to check on his finger, carefully holding his hand. The wound was already healing. Of course it was. Demons had a much higher healing factor, and a small cut such as Angel’s was bound to heal in less than a minute. There was a moment of silence between them before Alastor finally spoke up, “Do you want me to tell you another dad joke to make you feel better?”

“No!”

**_. . ._ **

Time passed faster than expected. It was already dinnertime once they checked the clock.

As expected, the other patrons made their way downstairs to eat. Thankfully, Alastor and Angel had already prepared the Jambalaya, and were simply talking in the kitchen once everything was clean. At the first sign of someone making their way to the kitchen, they split. Angel pulled out his phone and sat on the kitchen table absentmindedly, pretending as if Alastor didn’t exist. Alastor snapped his fingers and his shadow came rushing with his coat. It was much better than having to go up to fetch it. Mimzy entered the kitchen, and found herself puzzled upon seeing Angel playing a tile-matching game on his phone while Alastor put on his coat. She was going to ask, but had no idea of _what_ to ask, so she resigned herself to simply sit on the table while waiting for dinner to be served. Thankfully, the others quickly followed behind her. First came Niffty, then Vaggie and Charlie, and so it went. Soon enough, the table was full of hungry demons who were curious as to why Niffty had no idea what was for dinner. Then came the sobering realization that Alastor was the one cooking dinner. It’s not that he was a bad cook, but they had no idea what ingredients he used.

“Are you seriously telling me you let _him_ cook?” Husk asked Charlie, incredulous. The others didn’t really care. They just stood in line to be served. Alastor was the one who served them this time, deciding to give Niffty a break, which she was thankful for. He wasn’t at all offended by Husk’s accusations, especially since they weren’t baseless. Alastor was known for occasionally indulging in cannibalism, but it wasn’t something he did regularly. He had sometimes tried to convince Husk to taste some of his ‘special’ Jambalaya, but the winged cat was smarter than accounted for, and quickly shut his offering down. In some of those instances, he was never required to eat the food prepared, but now it was eating dinner or waiting until the next day’s breakfast. Usually he didn’t really care for food, but drinking on an empty stomach seemed to worsen his hangover, so he begrudgingly complied. Right now, though, he was considering skipping dinner and simply suffering the consequences. A hangover was nothing compared to the knowledge that you’re eating someone else’s kidneys.

Charlie was much more optimistic and forgiving than he was, though. “Don't worry, Husk, I'm sure whatever he's cooked is delicious! I can smell it from here, and it smells divine.” She clearly did not understand what Husk was trying to say. _God bless your soul, kid,_ he thought, giving Alastor a glare. He was debating on whether or not to trust him, and so far all of his instincts were telling him to tell Alastor to fuck off. And speaking of the devil...

“Thank you, Charlie, dear,” Alastor said, his usual smile widening a bit. He turned to the cat, picking up his plate without even thinking to ask for permission and putting some of the Jambalaya he prepared on it. Husk hated to admit it did smell delicious. _It’s a trap, it’s a trap, it’s a trap,_ he repeated to himself, like a mantra. Alastor put the plate in front of him, and Husk just stared at it. “And for your information, Husk, I did not use any unusual ingredients this time. You can ask Angel Dust, if you'd like. He was with me the whole time.” All eyes were on Angel Dust, who was, unsurprisingly, playing with his food. The porn star froze at the unexpected attention. Before anyone else could start asking him what that was all about, Mimzy decided to clear something first.

“Wait, is that why you two were already here when I walked in?” She only remembered how Angel was playing on his phone while Alastor just stood there, existing. That had been odd, but she didn’t think too much of it. Maybe Angel decided to come in early to get the food while it was still hot, which already didn’t make sense since he didn’t seem to like eating very much. However, now things were falling into place.

“Yup,” Angel answered noncommittally, poking the shrimp in his food.

Vaggie and Charlie exchanged glances. She had been skeptical when her girlfriend said that Angel and Alastor might be dating, but it seemed like, the more they talked, the more Charlie seemed to be right, and the two of them were doing a very poor job of hiding their relationship. Why else would Alastor leave the room upon finding out Angel’s ‘true’ age? And why would Angel of all people go after him, seemingly in a panic? They all had been too busy to go after them in order to find out what really happened, and the other patrons didn’t actually care enough to put in effort into trying to fetch them either. This mean that Angel and Alastor spent approximately five hours together, doing god knows what. Just the thought made Vaggie shake. She needed to say something. Charlie seemed to sense what was about to happen (Vaggie was convinced that her girlfriend could read her mind), but she spoke before the princess could say anything.

“This is highly suspicious.” It was a bold accusation, and she was very aware of that. However, Vaggie couldn’t handle it anymore. She hated Alastor, and hated everything he did and said. She thought he would get less infuriating with time once she got to know him better, but he did not. In fact, he seemed to have gotten _more_ grating in those seven months that they’ve lived together. And, as annoying and inappropriate as he was, she had grown to somewhat care for Angel Dust, like one cares for an annoying younger cousin who they were forced to babysit. And, when she said he could do better, she meant it.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile never wavering. “Pardon?” The room had long fallen silent, everyone thoroughly invested in the fight between the infamous Radio Demon and the fierce girlfriend and bodyguard of the princess of hell. It was like watching a trainwreck: impossible to look away from, and also somewhat entertaining in a messed-up way.

“Okay, fuck it, I'm going to say it,” Vaggie told him, and this time it wasn’t even a threat, despite sounding like one. Alastor did not protest. Charlie knew she it was too late to try and change her girlfriend’s mind. Why did everything always go wrong for her? She was so nice. “You used to _hate_ Angel Dust. You always did your best to avoid him at all costs. And now you're telling me you two _cooked_ together? What the fuck? What is your plan here, _bastardo_?” And, once again, all attention had been turned to Alastor as everyone waited for an answer for him. That is, everyone except Angel, who had lost his appetite, pushing the plate away from himself. He decided that wallowing in misery was better than running away. Was it too late to try and set something on fire?

“I assure you, my dear, there is no plan.” Alastor said with a laugh.

“I don't believe you,” Vaggie snarled, gritting her teeth. Angel picked up his glass of water and started playing with it too, watching the water sway from side to side, and casually commented, knowing he would be ignored anyway:

“Sounds like a you problem.” Apparently he did not go ignored, because Vaggie gave him a death glare.

Charlie decided that she had enough. She needed to de-escalate this argument, starting with the more aggressive of the two. She put a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder, knowing this usually calmer her down. The princess was very thankful she did not have her spear on her at the moment, or else Alastor would’ve been toast. “Vaggie, let's calm down, okay? Alastor's already said there's no plan. The only thing we can do now is believe him.” She didn’t particularly believe in Alastor either, especially since all of the clues pointed to their theory of a secret relationship, and he was being very vague about it. And, judging by Angel Dust’s reaction, he was acting like he had been caught red-handed. However, she knew better than to accuse someone without solid proof. Right now, Vaggie was coming across as a madwoman, just screaming about things no one else could understand. Charlie had expected Vaggie to calm down, and she did, in fact, stop screaming, but what she said next was much worse than if she had just continued insulting Alastor in Spanish.

“Alastor, are you aware that Angel is a minor?”

Angel, who had been drinking his glass of water as silently as possible, choked. He started violently coughing, before managing to calm himself down. He pointed an accusatory finger at Vaggie, narrowing his eyes, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He was so tired of this bullshit. He wouldn’t put up with this any longer. “No! We're not doing this! We're not! I am _this_ close to having a complete mental breakdown!” And, for the first time in his life, he meant it. Angel felt like he was losing his mind. Why did everyone assume he was still the same age he was when he first fell in hell? Sure, Charlie had a nice thing going with her theory, but it all fell apart when considering him (and, hell, even Crymini) as an outlier. And, unexpectedly, he was ignored. He felt like a ghost witnessing a shootout in a high school. It was surreal.

“I don't know what this has to do with the conversation.”

“Don't play dumb, you _pedazo de mierda_!” Vaggie screamed at Alastor, whose expression remained neutral, even as he was being accused of unspeakable things. The kitchen was filled with the two of them arguing back and forth, with Angel’s comments in between. Everyone ate their Jambalaya in silence, enjoying the show that was being put for them with wide eyes. Husk downed an entire bottle of alcohol in one go. He couldn’t do this sober. “I know what's up here!” She really didn’t, and Alastor could assure her of that. Still, it’s not like he would tell her the truth. Watching her struggle to come up with proof to back up her claims was much more entertaining.

“Oh, do tell.”

Oh, that was more than enough. He had _had it_ with both of them. “Dad, shut up!” Angel finally screamed, slamming his fist on the table, having lost his mind _and_ patience. Once everyone fell quiet, even Vaggie and Alastor (which was a feat in and of itself), did he realize what he actually said. It took him a second to process everything and accept that it had actually happened. It was so bad that he went through the five stages of grief in five seconds. _Oh no,_ he thought. Angel had gotten to used to referring to Alastor as his father in his mind that it just escaped. That, and the fact that Alastor told him that dad joke earlier. It had been in the back of his mind… Watching… _Waiting._ Oh god, he didn’t even want to look at Alastor’s face right now. Angel suppressed the urge to slam his head against the table.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: Everyone collectively loses their shit.
> 
> This chapter is a lot to process :P and yes, Charlie's question about whether or not you age in hell will eventually be answered. I think. It took me a while to write this behemoth of a chapter because I usually like to come up with the general premise of the chapter instead of being spontaneous. By the way, don't worry, there won't be cannibalism in this fanfic, I just decided to mention it here because, I mean, would YOU trust Alastor's Jambalaya? I sure as heck wouldn't.
> 
> Angel's fucking losing his mind, lmfao. And, honestly, so am I. I decided to put in some of my experiences as an invisible teenager there, because that's what we are to most adults, so yay :P If you asked me the hardest part of this chapter, I'd say: the goddamn chapter title. I am satisfied with what I came up with, and Avril Lavigne (the singer) has some great songs. Check "Here's to never growing up" out!
> 
> Oh, and one last thing: I have a tumblr and Discord! If you wanna check it out, my tumblr is deer-eared-disaster.tumblr.com and my Discord is TheyDontEvenHaveDental#7578. Just in case you guys wanna talk to me or watch me shitpost and draw semi-decently lol.


	8. Crises happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone collectively loses their minds, including Angel Dust. 
> 
> Alastor is thoroughly amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: this chapter is gonna be short.  
> The chapter: is 12,000 words long.  
> Me: fuk
> 
> So yeah, this happened. I don't know how it happened, but it did. I'm physically unable to do short chapters. I'm sorry, everyone. Also I've been dealing with some anxiety issues so I was super nervous to post this chapter. Hopefully it's good! Also, let's play a game of "Find the Everybody Hates Chris" reference lol. Anyway, happy reading!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTION OF PARENT DEATH.

“Was it just my imagination playing tricks on me or did you just call Alastor 'dad'?”

Angel Dust failed to answer Mimzy’s question. He just stood there, dazed, anxious, and with a thousand-yard stare, as if he had just witnessed something he should not have. And, in a certain way, he did, because he just witnessed himself doing the dumbest mistake he could’ve possibly made. Angel couldn’t help but berate himself mentally for it, and think that he was probably going to lay awake at night thinking about this for weeks. Why was he so stupid? Even worse, why were dad jokes so stupid that they got into his damn head? Why was _everything_ so stupid?! Angel could feel his heart beating at a thousand beats per minute, the blood rushing to his face in record time. Suddenly it was too hot in the room to bear, and he was glad he wore more open clothes rather than his usual pink suit. Still, even those clothes felt tight and uncomfortable now that he was hyper aware of everything, his senses heightening with the anxiety that followed, as if his body was prepared to fight an enemy that didn’t exist. Something as simple as taking a deep breath suddenly became a daunting task. His whole body screamed ‘something isn’t right’, even when there was nothing that could hurt him except for his own stupidity.

Angel Dust could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but he found himself frozen in place, much like a deer in the headlights (which was rather ironic considering their current situation). He tried to think of an answer — anything, really — but his mind went blank, simply replaying the moment he messed up in his head as a terrible intrusive thought that wouldn’t go away. That memory would _not_ go away easily if his brain had something to say about it. If he could, Angel would have started sweating bullets. Mimzy looked at him with a raised eyebrow as she noticed he wasn’t going to answer her, because it seemed like he was unable to, physically and mentally. Poor guy. She didn’t have time to think about that, though, because she was still as confused as when she first asked the question and nobody had given her a clear answer yet. Of course, other than Angel Dust, there was only one other person in the room that could give them the answers they needed.

Everyone turned to Alastor.

“I think Angel is unable to answer for the time being, as he appears to be having a mental breakdown,” the deer demon explained matter-of-factly, seemingly unfazed by being the center of attention (in fact, he seemed to thrive off of it). He watched as his son continued to remain silent for the time being, staring emptily at his plate of Jambalaya while perfectly still, like he had disconnected from reality. Alastor couldn’t blame him. This was a hard situation they found themselves in, and, now that Angel was no longer in the same plane of existence as them, Alastor was left to pick up the broken shards. However, he knew this was inevitable. Considering their combined track record of secrets kept, the truth was going to come out one way or another, whether they liked it or not. It was just a fact they needed to accept. Between the two of them, Alastor loved attention and hardly kept any secrets when asked (it wasn’t a big deal considering he didn’t really have much to hide), and Angel Dust was abysmal at lying to the point where a four-year-old could outdo with him with ease. The situation they found themselves in was laughable at best. 

How were they going to explain everything this time?

Well, it seemed like his son wasn’t as far gone as he thought. “I've been on the verge of having one for hours now. This was just my breaking point,” Angel Dust retorted, suddenly finding the strength to say something, even if it was a simple comeback. It felt like he was slowly losing it. He had already done everything that could be done, including having an inner monologue with himself over his own stupidity and going through the five stages of grief all at the same time. He could feel a headache coming on, and it was at that moment that he realized he just wanted to go to his room and sleep until everything was over. However, he also did not want to leave and attract more attention to himself, something he thought was rather ironic for him. Well, he did love attention, just not _this kind_ of attention. He could still feel everyone’s eyes on him, and his face began to burn with even more intensity as his blood pressure went through the roof. There was no way this could be healthy in any way for him.

“Yup, still trying to figure out if this is a '90 Day Fiancé' situation or a 'Maury' situation,” Crymini said, crossing her arms in contemplation. She was aware that Angel Dust had a daddy kink, because that guy probably had all the kinks in the world, being a porn star and all, but she was still confused as to why Alastor didn’t respond to it by obliterating Angel on the spot like he usually would if anyone else called him ‘daddy’ (even though Angel didn’t exactly call him that, but she digressed). Which meant there were three theories: the first one was that Alastor was still dazed by that, and in his own confusion forgot to punish Angel for this unforgivable crime; the second one was that he decided that torturing Angel by making him wait for his punishment was better in the long run (a respectable tactic, she used it a lot); lastly, perhaps the two were, by some weird coincidence, truly related, and Angel was dumb enough to out them both for everyone to hear. Either way, Angel Dust fucked up and was reaping the consequences.

Crymini wasn’t going to lie, the ‘Maury’ route sounded a lot more fun. Not that she wouldn’t pay for some top tier romantic drama right now, because all of the novelas she had watched during those past few days were somewhat lackluster (and real life drama is always more fun anyway), but family issues were always much more entertaining to watch in her opinion. It was basically like a trainwreck, but all of the passengers were bound together by handcuffs, hated each other’s guts, and were slowly being burned alive because they refused to suck it up and work together to escape. Crymini knew this from firsthand experience with her own hell of a family.

“Why not both?” Niffty replied cheerfully before realizing what she just said. Yeah, that did not come out good. “This sounded better in my head,” she explained.

“I'm too sober for this shit,” Husk grumbled, now regretting not having brought something to drink. He didn’t drink all the time, of course (otherwise he wouldn’t have a liver anymore), but life would definitely be easier if he were perpetually inebriated (especially with all of the shit that Alastor put him through every single day). Well, except during Poker games. Playing Poker while drunk was a terrible idea, and he’d witnessed some people try (and fail miserably). It was as funny as it was sad and pathetic. They should’ve known that alcohol lowers inhibition, and thus makes you more likely to say or do stuff you shouldn’t, like telling everyone the cards you’re holding in a poor attempt at mockery, and then passing out. At this very moment, he envied those people, and wished he could pass out on command.

So far, nothing that’d been said was leading them anywhere.

“Alastor?” Charlie asked, hoping the only one of the father-son duo who wasn’t having an existential crisis could answer the question they were so desperately hoping to get an answer for instead of stalling. Her Jambalaya was getting cold, but she wasn’t that worried about it. Cold food was something she could handle, but a mystery this big she just couldn’t just ignore. Charlie had been _so sure_ that they were dating, as all of the clues pointed to it, so for them to turn out to be related instead was one twist and a half. It was almost surreal. Her curiosity had gotten the best out of her, and also apparently everyone else. Some of their food was long forgotten as all of them waited anxiously for a goddamn answer that just didn’t seem like it would ever come. But then again, they should’ve expected that Alastor would try and make this as entertaining as possible for himself and as painful as possible for them.

Baxter, meanwhile, decided not to wait as he silently ate his food and watched everything go down. What could he say? He was interested _and_ hungry, and it wasn’t like eating during a possible familial revelation was a crime. Crymini, who had taken a bite or two out of the food (although not as silently), could concur. Alastor’s Jambalaya was too good to not be eaten. Refusing to do so was basically a crime. Still, with everything that was happening, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was acid in the food. She _had_ to be tripping to witness this.

Alastor thought about how he was going to explain this, since this burden had now fallen on him. He did not have much experience with groundbreaking secrets, sd he never had any before Angel waltzed into his life, so he was going to have to wing it. Of course, he would have to do it with his usual charm and charisma. He was the Radio Demon, after all, and everything he did, he did it with style. So, instead of explaining the situation normally like any regular sinner with half a brain would do, he began to tell a tale in the most dramatic way possible.

“Once upon a time, an infant was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, and then put up for adoption shortly after.” Angel, upon hearing this, almost choked on his own saliva. What was Alastor doing? Was… Was he telling a story? It took him a moment to register what was happening. _Oh,_ Angel thought as it suddenly clicked. He looked around, trying to read everyone else’s expressions, and they seemed to be enthralled by this narrative that had just barely started, desperate for any sort of answer. “In a twist of events, the infant was taken in by a family of Italian mobsters in New York and raised as one of their own, with the child being none the wiser about their past. The family tried to keep it a secret from them, but it didn't seem to last long. Feeling betrayed after a sorrowful revelation, the child, stubborn and determined as they were, confronted the one who they suspected was their biological parent, relying on nothing but intuition which turned out to be right in the end.” Everyone held their breaths as they listened to Alastor’s very ambiguous explanation of the events. Not a single soul dared speak.

Alastor watched them all with amusement, his smile wide and eyes twinkling in what could only be described as pure delight. He had really outdone himself this time. How unsurprising. “This leads us to today, and that child is sitting right in front of you.” He motioned towards Angel Dust, who was sitting in total silence the whole time, staring at his own hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. And, with that last line, Alastor was done. His gaze fell on his son, trying to read his body language. It seemed like he had been listening, despite already knowing how things went. Huh.

Angel hated to admit he had also been enraptured by the tale, even though he knew everything about it, since it was literally the story of his life being told in a more dramatic manner. Still, the way his father explained it was short and ambiguous, but captivating at the same time. In a moment of stupidity, he even dared ask himself ‘what is going to happen next?’ once, which wasn’t making him feel any more smarter than he already was feeling for outing himself and Alastor. As his father delivered that last line like a mic drop, Angel Dust found himself being the center of attention once again, all gazes pointed directly at him, and he hated it. Thinking about how he would deal with this, it was decided that it would be best not to address them yet.

“Thanks for the lore, Al.” Angel might have sounded sarcastic (because he was), but it was kind of fascinating to see his take on everything. Angel Dust hadn’t even thought about how he wasn’t actually born in New York, but Louisiana, where Alastor lived. How did he even end up in in such a far away place like that in the first place? Who would travel from one state to another one so distant just to adopt a child, and why? Those were the questions he would probably never get an answer to (unless he talked to Henroin, which he didn’t feel like doing anytime soon), and it was making him go mad with curiosity.

“Aw, what happened to 'dad'?” Crymini taunted him, and that caused Angel Dust to realize he hadn’t called Alastor his father this time. _Finally, I have a brain cell,_ he celebrated mentally. He still didn’t know how to really address Alastor, though. Would he be okay with being called ‘dad’, or did he prefer to stay on a first name basis? Everything about this was so confusing that it was giving him anxiety again. When he had accidentally called Alastor ‘dad’ just now, he did not seem bothered, but what did it mean? His eyes didn’t show any sort of emotion either, and that was the only clue Angel could be given to know what he was feeling at the moment. He also remembered the dad joke from earlier. Alastor did not even hesitate to call himself ‘dad’. It was weird, but also interesting in a way.

Angel playfully answered, “I will slap the caps off your knees.” He didn’t want to, actually, but he couldn’t let Crymini know he wasn’t in the mood for fighting and bickering. Their semi-serious rivalry had to go on, and it was a two-way street when it came to the effort they put into their insults.

“How does one go from Louisiana to New York?” Mimzy asked Alastor, as if she had read Angel’s mind earlier. This just didn’t make sense, geographically speaking.

“In this regard, I am just as lost as you are, Mimzy. However, I have a feeling that whatever the answer is, it cannot be good.” He had no clues or anything to rely on except for his paternal instinct, which had just now come out of the woodwork to haunt him. Nevertheless, it was a pretty useful instinct sometimes, like right now. He wasn’t going to accuse the Ragnos of anything, because he had no proof, but something definitely happened. The thought of something bad happening to Angel Dust filled him with dread. Was this what parenting was like? Just a never ending amount of worry and anxiety? Angel was definitely going to be the second death of him.

“Wait, so that story you told us... You're saying that Angel Dust is your long lost child?” Charlie asked, the gears in her brain just now turning. Her mind went to the game night they had a few weeks before. She had been shocked to find out Alastor was a father, and he had a child out there, doing who knows what. She had promised Alastor to find Pandora, even though she had no idea of how to do so. Funnily enough, Alastor did not seem insistent on having her keep her promise either. Charlie figured he preferred for his child to stay anonymous, and she understood his reasoning. Overlords had tons of enemies, and one of them having a child (something very, very rare for an overlord who wasn’t a hellborn) would be downright dangerous for said child. She had come to accept that she probably would never be able to find Pandora. And yet, the universe continued to surprise her in ways she couldn’t comprehend. “How did this happen?” How did they even figure it out? How did Angel know Alastor was his biological father? Was it really only intuition, or was there something else he wasn’t telling them?

Alastor appeared to have misunderstood her question. “I don't believe we need to have an impromptu talk about the birds and the bees, now do we, darling?” Charlie felt her face burn at the realization of how ambiguous her question was, and Angel Dust stifled a laugh. Things were going so spectacularly bad that he could barely keep himself together. He also couldn’t help but imagine Alastor trying to give everyone a lesson about sex. _Oh god, that would be hilarious,_ he thought, trying not to laugh out loud. This whole situation was too ridiculous to take seriously. He watched as Charlie, face bright red, tried to answer him, an embarrassed smile making its way to her lips.

“That’s not really what I meant…”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Well—”

“Holy fuck, guys, Alastor fucked!” Crymini suddenly realized, like a switch had gone off in her brain, smirking widely. She didn’t care that she interrupted Charlie, who decided it would be best to sit in silence for a while. Crymini slapped her knee and doubled over laughing, as if this was the funniest thing she had ever heard. In a sense, it was, especially because of how unbelievable this whole situation was. She was still half-convinced she was tripping. “He— oh my god! This is the best day of my life!” she cackled. “Hey, who’s the unlucky lady?” Everyone proceeded to ignore her, with the exception of Angel, who resisted the urge to slap himself as he remembered something that made his fur stand on edge. _Kenneth Lawrence,_ his other biological parent— or, more accurately, his sperm donor, because that man did not deserve to be called a parent. He had completely forgotten about him until now. _I wonder if he’s in hell somewhere,_ he wondered, _he probably is._

If he hadn’t already been killed by the exterminators, that is.

 _That_ would’ve been a blessing in disguise.

Baxter, after finishing his meal, finally decided to make his presence known. “I have one question,” he announced, raising his hand as if he were in a really chaotic classroom with a drunk substitute teacher. That’s how it all felt. “How do you know for sure that you are related, scientifically speaking?” He was really interested in this entire case. The only way to truly know if they were related was through genetic evidence, and if Angel really only relied on instinct like Alastor said, this was bad news. While gut instinct was a proven theory — something that could work in certain situations, like when there was an unseen danger approaching —, it was a terribly bad idea in terms of finding long lost family members. He was curious as to what the answer would be. Apparently so was everyone else, because they were all waiting for an answer, the room diving into complete silence. _That’s a first,_ Baxter told himself. Nobody usually cared for the questions he asked... Maybe because of how morally questionable they were sometimes.

Alastor remained unbothered by the question. “DNA tests exist for a reason, of course!” he answered cheerfully. He snapped his fingers, and one of them appeared in his hand, the bright green answer making itself known, proving his parenthood undeniable. Baxter nodded, analyzing the stick from afar. Those types of tests in hell were very rare and definitely not cheap. Alastor was an overlord, though. He must’ve had connections. That did not matter to him, though. Baxter did not trust one single paternity test as the definitive answer. It worked roughly like a pregnancy test, except that, instead of urine, it used blood, which was a much more clean alternative. And, if it worked like a pregnancy test, there was always a chance of false positives, right? These kinds of stick tests weren’t perfect, neither on Earth nor in hell. Maybe he was being too skeptical, but it was the truth. If they had done, who knows, three paternity tests, then the chances of a false positive would be much, much smaller.

“You saved them?!” Angel asked, seemingly horrified. He thought Alastor had gotten rid of the tests like he said he would.

“Yes, because I predicted a situation like this,” the deer demon replied, calm and collected as always. He spun the test around his fingers, not concerned about whether or not he might damage it. There were back-ups, after all. “Proof will be required, and we have the proof right here.” He chuckled, as if he had just heard a really funny joke. Angel didn’t know why things were so funny. It seemed like everything went from funny to serious and back to funny again. There would probably never be a homeostasis. “Why would one get rid of the only proof of paternity they have? I thought you shared my intelligence, dear.” Sometimes it surprised Alastor how little his son thought ahead. He usually just did whatever he wanted and prayed things would work out in the end. This simply wouldn’t do. Perhaps he was due for a lesson on how to plan things accordingly. This would save him from a lot of trouble in the future, and, seeing as he was constantly getting into them (being the trouble magnet that he was), it seemed like he really needed it was soon as possible.

Angel rolled his eyes, crossing his upper pair of arms. He allowed a smirk to make its way to his lips. “I’m sorry for not inheriting your _amazing IQ_ of four and a half.”

“Vibe check,” Crymini commented, fanning the flames.

Alastor remained unbothered. “At least you inherited the snark. I can respect that.”

After remembering the conversation they were previously having about the paternity tests, Alastor walked up to Baxter and placed the test in front of him. The scientist slowly picked it up, as if it would disappear if he was too rough. He had never seen one of these tests before, and it was kind of unbelievable for him to be holding one right now. He had done some research before, and even memorized the colors and what they represented. Green meant a parent-child relationship, as was expected of Alastor and Angel. God, those things were very, _very_ expensive. It wasn’t unusual for someone like Alastor, an overlord, to have that kind of money, though. But then again, even though it wasn’t a cheap test, and was probably more reliable than instinct, he couldn’t help but feel like _just one_ wasn’t enough.

“Despite the odds, there's a slight chance that it could've been a false positive. A one-percent chance is not to be underestimated,” he explained, hoping he wasn’t coming across as snobby. He just wanted them to know the risks of believing a test that could have easily been wrong. Imagine the chaos if the two of them found out that it was a false positive. However, on the flipside, the test could’ve been correct. In that case, he didn’t know what to do.

Angel was getting tired of this conversation, since the doubts were already getting to him, even though he was one-hundred percent sure Alastor was his biological father. This had already been proven through the stories they shared. He would have to bring out the big guns. “All five of them? The chances are less than 0.01%. This percentage is so minimal that it’s basically negligible.” He hated talking about math or music in front of other people, because it was unlike him to be an expert on something, being the ‘dumb slut’ that he was, but they’ve all gone past the point of no return, and one more thing being out there about him wasn’t going to change that. Besides, who would care that Angel Dust knew certain things that made him not-as-stupid? Certainly no one would believe them if they ever decided to tell other people about it. The spider would always be known as ‘that one dumb bitch’, and there was nothing he could do to change that. He didn’t really care what others thought of him anyway. Angel Dust had chosen this persona himself, and he would own it proudly. Besides, it just made it all the more interesting when he managed to outsmart his enemies, leaving them all dumbfounded and dazed.

“Five tests—” Baxter faltered, before being interrupted by Alastor snapping his fingers and four other tests appearing right in front of him. Everyone leaned forward to get a good look. All five of them were green. Yup, that would definitely do it. It was more likely for them to be hit by lightning twice in a row than for this amount of tests to be false positives at the same time. Just how much money did Alastor spend on this? “You know what? I'm going to shut up now,” Baxter decided, feeling his face heat up as it glowed in a captivating blue color. He no longer had anything else of value to add to this conversation, simply staring dumbfounded at the five tests in front of him before they disappeared in a puff of red smoke due to Alastor snapping his fingers. After that was done, he made his way back to where he was standing, his expression as neutral as possible for someone like him. 

Crymini grinned at Baxter, watching everything with great amusement.

“Smart move, Nemo. Just keep swimming,” she taunted, waving her hand dismissively. Baxter blinked, thinking about this insult for a moment, because it was absolutely terrible for her standards. She usually either threatened him or dissed him so hard that his self-esteem would go for a walk in the park and only return a week later. In comparison, calling him ‘Nemo’ was relieving. Crymini seemed to have read his mind, because she gave him a look of pity. “I know. I’m choosing to give you some dignity because you were humiliated enough already.” Oh. That explained everything. He felt his face burn even more upon hearing that, the bright blue of his skin lighting up the room even more.

Meanwhile, Vaggie, just like Angel Dust, had been frozen in place for the time being, trying to comprehend everything that happened. She was so sure that Alastor and Angel were in a relationship that hearing such a twist was mind-shattering. She simply couldn’t wrap her head around that. It didn’t matter what way she thought about it, it was too weird of a concept to grasp. However, now that she had some time to think about it, putting two and two together, there was something else brewing inside of her: _guilt._ Perhaps she had gone a bit too far. At the time, it did sound best to confront Alastor about the nature of the relationship between him and Angel Dust, especially after the events of the group therapy, but she had begun having regrets. Vaggie had accused him of so many things, some of which were despicable, and he turned out to be completely innocent. For the first time in months, her impulsivity came back to bite her in the ass. She should’ve known this would have happened one way or another, but not like this.

How hilarious that the girlfriend of the princess of hell, who wants nothing more than to redeem demons, saw the good in everyone, and was a walking ray of sunshine, had serious issues with actually having hope for some demons. Was she being realistic? Perhaps, but still, accusing others of such serious things without proof was uncalled for. She wanted to apologize, but couldn't find the right words. Hell, would he even accept her apology? If she were in his place, would she have accepted _his_ apology? Her disdain for Alastor seemed to have gone too far this time. The guilt was consuming her, and would continue to unless she did something about it. This meant that she would have to apologize. Later. Because right now, she was on the verge of having an aneurysm.

“I can't believe this. Am I the only one who can't believe this?” she finally asked, ignoring the issue of Alastor’s apology for now. It all felt like a very bizarre dream. And, as it turned out, no, she was not the only one who felt this way, but no one even tried to speak up, because what else could be said in this kind of situation? They were all just trying to process this incredible amount of information that was given to them in such a short timespan. In comparison to the reveal of the existence of Pandora, which was an uproar of questions and exclamations, this was the most quiet they had ever been. Angel Dust allowed himself to relax for a moment, the silence being healthy to his currently damaged mental state. Alastor, on the other hand, found it all a bit boring. It was time to shake things up again.

“Your lack of faith in me is disheartening, my dear. You wound me,” he said, putting a hand on his chest in faux hurt.

Vaggie scoffed, because she knew he was trying to start an argument, but allowed a small smile to make its way to her lips. If he was going to taunt her, she might as well hit back. “The all-powerful Radio Demon, having his pride hurt by an innocuous comment made by me? I'm definitely dreaming. I bet I'll wake up at any moment now.” She waited, but nothing happened. Perhaps this _wasn’t_ a dream after all. It was a terrifying possibility.

“I suddenly don't understand anything,” Niftty stated, still trying to wrap her head around what had just took place. Everyone could agree with that statement.

Crymini rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in the air as she gave up on trying to comprehend the situation as well. “Does anyone in this hotel understand anything that ever happens?” Baxter quietly raised his hand. She shot him a glare. “Put your fucking hand down.” The scientist nodded, obediently lowering his hand as slowly as possible, as if any abrupt movements would cause Crymini to bite his arm off. And, to be honest, she was right. Every day it seemed like something random happened and they had to deal with it. It was rare for there to be a day where there wasn’t a fight, or the group therapy didn’t go wrong, or Angel and Crymini didn’t start a rap battle against each other, or something like that. Would they ever reach the dream of comprehending one situation they found themselves trapped in?

Mimzy watched all of this go on silently, unable to find any words. She had a lot of time to think about what happened and was finally ready to accept everything as the truth, and not just a prank that was being pulled on them. She knew Alastor, and he was not one to pull pranks. At all. He loved jokes, that much was clear, but he did not do pranks. Angel Dust might, but why would Alastor agree to doing a prank with him? It didn’t make sense. There was only one option: this was real. She turned to look at Angel, maybe see how he was dealing with everything, because he had been really quiet for a while. Everyone had been, actually, but she was worried for him specifically. Mimzy found him with a hand on his forehead, a stare of disbelief in his eyes.

“Angel, are you okay?” she asked, noticing how distant he looked.

Angel Dust bitterly laughed out loud, throwing his head back, much like Alastor usually did. Even the overlord himself noticed the similarity. Like father, like son, they supposed. “No. Try again next year.” And then he slammed his face on the table, immediately regretting doing so as soon as the pain hit him, spreading throughout his face quicker than expected. He didn’t get up, though, and instead just stood right there, contemplating his existence and everything that had happened in his life that lead up to this specific event while the conversation around him continued. He tuned it out, instead deciding to wallow in misery. What could he have done differently? What would’ve happened if he hadn’t said anything? When would their secret have come out, in that case? Neither him nor Alastor were the best at keeping secrets. It was bound to come out one way or another, just like Florence had said. 

He just wished it wasn’t like this.

Realizing that lamenting the situation wasn’t helping him, he swiftly stood up, face still aching from having hit it on the table pretty hard, and walked up to Alastor, who looked at him with curiosity. That was when everyone noticed him stand up, and they quieted down from the conversation they were having, wondering if he had anything to say. He did not. In fact, he had gotten up to try and escape this hellish nightmare. In a low, whispery voice, he said to his father, “I’m going to my room. I’m _losing it,_ man.” He just wanted to go to sleep, his body and soul tired as hell. His stomach was empty, filled with nothing but water, but he could deal with that. He had gone days without food once, and it was no longer a big deal to him. Right now, his sanity was his top priority.

Alastor nodded. He could understand why Angel wanted to leave. Things were getting messy, and his son didn’t seem like he was in the best place, mentally speaking, to deal with it. ”Go, I'll cover for you,” Alastor whispered back, summoning his cane and allowing it to hit the floor with a ‘thud’. The spider nodded, eternally grateful to his father for this, and immediately power-walked towards the kitchen’s door without looking back. Since they had been silent about it, no one understood Angel’s sudden decision to leave. “I'm afraid Angel isn't feeling very well, everyone! It's best that he go to his room to rest,” the deer demon explained, avoiding saying anything more than that. It was none of their business anyway. “Meanwhile, I have a very important question to ask.” Oh? That was new. Everyone listened intently, wondering if this was some new information they did not yet know about the situation. “Vaggie, dear, what is the least spoken language in the world?” he asked instead, and that sentence hit everyone in the room one by one like a train without brakes, and they slowly realized...

Oh.

_Oh no._

“What?” Vaggie questioned, a hand on her forehead, already knowing the answer, and also knowing the fact that she was going to regret this decision in the long run.

“Sign language!” Alastor replied, cackling at his own joke. A laughing soundtrack began to play in in the background, coming from his newly-summoned microphone. A chorus of groans followed shortly after. Meanwhile, Charlie and Niffty weren’t as negatively affected by the dad joke; on the contrary, they were laughing like they hadn’t heard something this funny in years. Vaggie gave her girlfriend a look of confusion, trying to understand why this was so hilarious. She had heard this joke before from her uncle back when she was alive, and it was now as funny as when she first heard it, by which she meant it wasn’t funny at all. Maybe her uncle was right and she just didn’t have a sense of humor. However, judging by the others sitting on the table besides Charlie and Niffty, it seemed like none of them were having a good time either. They all knew that, if Alastor started telling his infamous dad jokes, he would never stop. It was a never ending cycle of bad jokes and puns that would just keep coming until they were all dead inside.

“Please, Satan, have mercy on me and wake me up,” Vaggie begged silently, hoping he would hear her.

Apparently she wasn’t silent enough, because Charlie heard her, and the princess, after having regained her composure, leaned towards her girlfriend, whispering back, “Um, Vaggie, I don't think you're dreaming. I mean, unless we're sharing a dream, which would be pretty cool, but probably unlikely.” That was true. Vaggie had to stop living in denial and come to terms that Alastor was a father, and his son was alive and probably having to suffer through the same thing they were going through (she thoroughly envied him for not being here right now). The concept was foreign and terrifying, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. Well, she _did_ feel incredibly guilty for accusing him of taking advantage of Angel when he clearly didn’t, but, other than that, her feelings were a blur of positives and negatives towards the reveal of his and Angel’s relationship. Besides, being a dad now meant he had even more reasons to tell dad jokes, which was terrible for everyone involved.

It seemed like he had read her mind.

“Don't worry, everyone, there's more where that one came from!” Alastor announced proudly, knowing very well the others hadn’t eaten their dinner and wanted to do so in peace and quiet, especially after all that happened, but where was the fun in that? He also knew that eating meals in places other than the dinner table was forbidden, so they were basically stuck there with him, unless they pulled an Angel Dust and skipped the meal altogether. Husk resisted the urge to slam his head on the table like Angel did. Knowing Alastor, this could go on all night. Poking his Jambalaya with a fork, still suspicious of what meat had been used in the cooking process, he grumbled:

“Oh, we’re worrying, alright.”

**_. . ._ **

Alastor had been in the middle of reading a book in his room when he heard a knock at the door.

He would never understand why everyone always seemed to think the best time to inconvenience him was when he was right in the middle of reading something interesting. He thought everyone would’ve been scared of interacting with him after all of his dad jokes, and Angel was asleep, so who could it possibly be? Besides, it was almost midnight. Everyone should’ve been sleeping by now, with a few exceptions, like Crymini and Baxter, who did god-knows-what during those hours. It couldn’t have been them either, because he barely interacted with Crymini, and Baxter seemed to be avoiding him after what happened during dinner. Well, he should stop speculating who it was and just open the door. Hopefully this wouldn’t take more than a minute.

With a sigh, he dog-eared the page he had been reading, and then closed the book, putting it aside for the time being. He hoped that, whatever this was, it would be quick. Making sure he looked presentable, Alastor walked up to the door and opened it in one swift motion. He was surprised to see that it was not Charlie or Angel Dust there, but Vaggie. This was definitely a first for him, and now the situation had his undivided attention. What did she want with him this time? Looking her up and down, the poor girl seemed like she was uncomfortable and struggling with something. If this was any other demon, he would assume they were nervous of being in front of the infamous Radio Demon, which was a rational fear, but the two of them had already gone past this point, and it was pretty clear that Vaggie found him more infuriating than scary. Alastor did not mind at all. In fact, he found it rather funny how she managed to find everything he did annoying in some way. Not many people had this kind of talent. He did wonder what she was planning on doing, though, and in the middle of the night, too. Hopefully, whatever this was would be worth his book’s interruption.

“May I help you?” Alastor asked. This was the first time Vaggie had gone to him for anything, _ever,_ so if she wanted his attention, she had succeeded. He watched as the smaller sinner stared at him in the eyes with a newfound determination, and he could feel something emanating from her — a feeling that appeared to be consuming her, it seemed, and it showed in the way she was acting —, but found himself unable to recognize what emotion it was supposed to be. He was never really good at having them in the first place, so perhaps that was why. However, that wouldn’t be necessary. He had the feeling that, whatever it was that she was feeling, would be pretty clear in her next words.

“I…” Vaggie started, but trailed off as her mind went blank. She hadn’t even rehearsed how she was going to do this. She had just hoped the words would naturally come to her when the time came, but it seemed like she had overestimated herself… No, she didn’t need anything fancy. She just needed it to be simple and sincere. She closed her eye, taking a deep breath, and decided to quickly rip the band-aid. It would be best if she got this done as soon as possible. “I came here to apologize.” She didn’t want to see Alastor’s reaction to this. She didn’t want to see anything. She was just hoping to get this over with. Still with her eye closed, she continued before Alastor even had the chance to speak. “I shouldn’t have screamed at you and accused you of such terrible things today. It was unfair and uncalled for. I’m really sorry for that.” It was weird for her to be wholeheartedly apologizing to _Alastor_ of all people, but she could feel a huge burden being lifted off her shoulders once she had said everything that she wanted to. Huh. 

Charlie was right: she should apologize to people more often.

After this was over, Vaggie finally allowed herself to open her eye, staring at Alastor directly. She had been hoping to be able to, for once in her life, read the overlord’s cryptic smile. She wanted to predict his answer to at least feel like she was in control of the situation for once. But, of course, his expression remained as indistinct as ever, and she really didn’t know what she expected. Alastor seemed to enjoy constantly confusing others with his enigmatic grin, and no one really knew how to read him. He was like a book written in another language, but the letters were backwards and randomly flipped upside down. Vaggie watched as he put a hand on his chin, contemplating his probable answer, and she began to think of the possibilities. What would happen if he refused her apology? Life would move on, right? But she’d still feel guilty, wouldn’t she? God, why were these things so complicated? After a moment of silence between them, with Alastor pondering about her apology for a second (although she was sure he stalling on purpose because watching her squirm was funny), he finally put his hands behind his back and looked down at her.

“Apology accepted.”

“Wait, really?” Vaggie asked, taken aback a little. She had hoped he would forgive her, but didn’t really expect him to. What she had done had been very serious, even though it was hell and no one gave a damn.

“Of course,” Alastor responded, his grin widening. He motioned towards a general direction, not really pointing at anything. “Today’s been one show and a half, and none of it would have been possible without you!” _Ah,_ Vaggie thought, _I don’t know what I expected_ . “Besides, I am quite acquainted with speculation about my person, my dear! This might sound unrelated, but did you know that for many years people have been arguing over my sexuality?” Vaggie let out a choked sound that would have been a laugh if she hadn’t suppressed it at the last second. She just didn’t expect him to say this out of all things they had been talking about. Vaggie had never noticed it until now, but it seemed like, taking into account his current parental relationship with Angel Dust, Alastor had no interest in romance whatsoever. _Aromantic_ was the word that came to her mind, and suddenly everything clicked into place. It was stupid of her to assume he wouldn’t have been something like that. She even wondered before how being in a relationship with Alastor would have been like for someone, and things did not go well for the imaginary partner.

She probably assumed he wasn’t because of the way he had been acting with Angel, so close and intimate. To a bystander, it really would’ve seemed like they were in a relationship. However, it all went out the window once they found out Angel Dust had been Alastor’s child all along, the one that he had given up for adoption. Now that she thought about it, Angel probably had a stroke upon finding out he had been flirting with his own father for months on end. Now _that_ would have been a sight to see. Vaggie didn’t know what she’d do if she found out someone she’d been flirting with was secretly related to her either. She would probably also have a stroke. And, honestly, considering she didn’t know her biological father at all, that was a real possibility. Luckily for her, she was one-hundred percent sure she wasn’t related to Charlie.

“They’ve been _what_ now?” Vaggie asked once she regained her composure, suddenly remembering what they were talking about. Since when were people theorizing about the Radio Demon’s sexuality? She never heard of that, but that was probably because she didn’t participate in any forums for Alastor’s fans. Did those even exist? Probably. Everything was possible on the internet.

Alastor chuckled, the memories coming back to him in waves. “Speculations about my relationships are nothing new to me, neither in life nor in death. I’ve heard rumors about me being homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, or that I’m dating this or that person… It’s fun to watch everyone fight each other over something so trivial!” Alastor explained, summoning his cane. He wasn’t going to do anything with it, but leaning against it was much more relaxing for him. Vaggie still didn’t know why he was telling her this, but she had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to make her feel better about her mistake. That was probably it, since being accused of being gay and being accused of being a creep were nowhere near the same category (and she would deck anyone who said otherwise). “Now that you know this interesting piece of trivia about me, isn’t our charming demon belle waiting for you? It’s awfully late.” Vaggie felt her eyes widen as she hastily grabbed her phone from a hidden pocket in her dress (having pockets in any type of feminine clothing was a blessing), and unlocked it to check the time. It _was_ almost midnight. Their conversation had taken less than two minutes, but even that was too much. Vaggie had told Charlie that she was simply going to get a glass of water (which would’ve taken about a minute), but made a beeline for the overlord’s room instead.

Her girlfriend was probably wondering why it was taking so long to get a damn glass of water.

“You’re right, I should go back,” she agreed, spinning on her heels and getting ready to leave. However, one thought popped into her mind, and she turned to face Alastor again, a small smile resting on her lips. “You know, Al, you’re not as infuriating as I thought you were…” She paused. “Also, if anyone asks, you have no proof I said anything.” And, with that said, she left, making her way to the room she shared with her girlfriend. A huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders as her guilt slowly dissipated. Alastor watched her turn around the corner and disappear, a sincere smile on his lips. These past few days had been so chaotic that he could no longer predict what the following day would hold. He surely had not expected Vaggie to apologize to him — she definitely wouldn’t have in the past —, but it seemed like things changed. Perhaps Charlie’s group therapy was working, after all. He had never expected the day things would come to this, but here they were.

Just as he was about to close the door, Alastor saw Angel Dust turn around the corner, still in his pajamas, hugging himself with his four arms, as if this would protect him from whatever he was fearing. He looked smaller this way, and more fragile than he already was. He also looked scared, very scared, like something terrible had just occurred right in front of him. Angel had been so on edge that he jumped once he bumped into Vaggie in the hallway that lead to Alastor’s room, not really expecting her of all people to be there. She gave him a glance of concern before deciding it was better to let Alastor deal with whatever was going on, since it seemed like that’s where Angel was headed. Already worrying about what happened just by the sight alone, Alastor opened the door all the way in once again. He patiently waited for the spider to reach him, for his steps were small and timid, as if he was debating on whether or not to just turn around and run away. And, if Angel was being honest, he was. It was just so ridiculous, but he still could not get it out of his mind.

Hel hated having to resort to this, because he felt like a child going to their parents’ room after a nightmare. And Angel hated feeling like a child. He had done everything possible to separate himself from the Anthony Maximilliano who died at fourteen years of age, alone and scared and in pain. He wasn’t that person anymore. He was Angel Dust, hell’s number one porn star and star patron of the Hazbin Hotel. Finally, after what seemed like forever for both of them, Angel Dust reached Alastor, the two looking into each other’s eyes. Alastor could read Angel like an open book. He could see the worry and anxiety that the other was feeling, and he was curious as to why that was while simultaneously dreading having to ask about it.

“Angel—” he started, but was cut off.

“Something’s wrong.”

Two words was all he needed to start worrying. Alastor stood still for a moment before stepping aside so Angel could enter his room, and the younger one hesitated a bit before walking in. The first thing he noticed once he walked in was an open window. Shaking slightly, he made his way towards it. His hands found the lower sash and his grip on it tightened as he closed the window shut. Alastor did not understand why his son felt the need to do that. The air was chill and the night was calm, and an open window was the best source for a cool breeze other than an air conditioner, which they did not have. Was he cold, perhaps? That was probably it, considering Angel was wearing nothing but his pajamas. Maybe that was the reason why he was shivering as well. Yes, this was a logical conclusion. However, it didn’t really fit the narrative. If Alastor had learned something during those past few months, it was that Angel Dust was seldom logical. He was a chaotic force of nature, and everyone knew that.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” Alastor asked, trying not to sound too concerned. Maybe Angel just had a nightmare. Those things happened, right? Alastor had nightmares as well every once in a while (even though he managed to ignore them right away). However, judging by the look that Angel was giving him, it seemed to be more complicated than that. The spider demon’s eyes scanned the room, as if he was afraid that someone was hiding in the shadows, before he decided to answer the question with total honesty.

“I don’t know.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at the vagueness of the answer. “You don’t know?”

“Yeah, I just have this feeling that something bad is going to happen,” Angel replied, feeling his face heat up. This was ridiculous, and perhaps he shouldn’t have come. Angel wasn’t one for feeling anxiety at all, since he never worried about most things, just letting all events of his life happen naturally (that had now been proven to be a terrible idea). So, when he _did_ feel any sort of anxiety, it meant something bad was coming his way. He just had no idea what it was. And, honestly, he didn’t know why he came to Alastor for help. Sure, his father was a powerful overlord, but what could he do against a threat that hadn’t made itself known yet? Alastor was left wondering the same thing. He wanted to give Angel some comfort, but he couldn’t give him empty lies like ‘everything’s going to be okay’ and ‘there’s nothing to be afraid of’, because he didn’t know if those things were true. He had never seen Angel worry needlessly about things; not in front of others, at least. He appeared to always want to keep things to himself, and was often secretive about his issues. It seemed like something he inherited from Alastor.

“Do you want to stay here for a while?” Alastor offered. “At least until the threat is over.”

Angel nodded. He was a little ashamed that it had to come to that. However, there was a weight in his gut that wouldn’t go away, like constantly hearing boss music but never finding the threat, and he didn’t want to be alone in his room, where the shadows seemed to move every time he blinked. He wouldn’t bother Charlie and Vaggie about it, because they would probably think there was an intruder and he didn’t want them to worry needlessly about that, so his father was his only choice. Alastor motioned to his bed as he made his way to his chair, picking up the book he had put down for the time being. Angel nodded, quietly sitting on the bed, staring at his own feet. He didn’t want to sleep; he wanted _answers._ Why was he feeling like this? Angel had only felt this type of anxiety a few times in his life, but most of the time it was reserved for dangers he could see, like Valentino, or Sir Pentious (that last one barely qualifying as a threat).

He wanted to think about it more, but was interrupted by a silent yawn that escaped his lips. That was when he noticed what was happening. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. He had woken up at midnight when he went to sleep at eight. No wonder he was so tired. _No, I can’t sleep,_ Angel thought as he struggled to stay awake. However, it was a losing fight between him and himself. His whole body suddenly became heavy, and he started leaning forward, his mind going blank. Angel realized he couldn’t fight this forever. He would have to sleep, whether he wanted it or not. _Maybe I’ll just close my eyes a little bit,_ he considered. Angel closed his eyes. Perhaps he could rest for ten minutes. That would be enough, right?

Alastor watched out of the corner of his eye in amusement as Angel Dust attempted to stay awake, only for him to be defeated in the battle he was having with himself and slowly lose consciousness. Shaking his head, the deer turned back to his book. His microphone had been long gone, as he had nowhere to put it while reading. Despite wanting to focus entirely on the book, he still tried to stay alert in case the threat that Angel was talking about showed up. While it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen, it never hurt to be prepared. If there _was_ an intruder, he would take care of them effortlessly. However, he had a feeling that perhaps Angel was being paranoid, or maybe had a bad dream and was projecting his fear onto reality. Either way, he was sure there was nothing to be afraid of.

 _THUMP, THUMP, THUMP_ —

That was what he thought, at least, before his heart rate spiked. The anxiety had hit him as well, an unfamiliar feeling of imminent danger. Alongside the sudden rush of adrenaline, he began to sweat, his instincts telling him to ‘get out of there’, despite him having nowhere to go and being perfectly safe inside of his room. If Alastor wasn’t naturally calm and composed, he might’ve jumped out of his seat. He could now understand what Angel was going through, and how unpleasant it was. But why was he now feeling this? They couldn’t be sharing emotions, this wasn’t in any way possible. So what else could it be? Alastor tried to focus on his book, but the anxiety was nearly unbearable. He had to read sentences again and again, his mind always wandering to the funny feeling in his stomach.

There was no way he was going to be able to read tonight.

With a sigh, he closed the book with one hand and put it aside. He did not even need to mark the page again, because he didn’t get past the first paragraph. This nervousness was very distracting. It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, and he wanted to reach inside his chest and rip it out. He cast a glance towards Angel, who was sleeping over the covers, curled up on himself like a cat. Alastor wished he could sleep this off as well, but he needed to be on guard in case anything happened. He began to think. Was he wrong? Could there really be someone on the hotel? Unlikely. With his and Charlie’s powers combined, anyone who dared barge in was asking for a world of pain. Besides, he never felt any sort of anxiety over other demons, not even other overlords themselves. No one was a challenge for him, therefore there was no need to worry. So, if an intruder was so unlikely, what was this feeling? 

He didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because that was when Angel’s eyes snapped open as he sat up so quickly it made him dizzy. He gave Alastor, who had turned to him with curiosity, a horrified look. “It’s coming!” he announced, the spider feeling his heart hammering inside his chest. It felt like he was really close to going into cardiac arrest.

“What is coming?” Alastor asked, trying to remain calm. One of them had to in this situation. What could Angel possibly have noticed that he didn’t? That was when he heard it.

_CRACK._

Angel immediately flinched as the first thunder hit. Alastor’s ears flickered at the loud sound. It was then that he heard the first droplets of water hit his window, quiet and gentle, before the pace picked up and it quickly turned into a downpour. He paused for a moment, watching the rain outside his window, soothing and rhythmic, but very strong. That was when everything clicked in place for Alastor. He and Angel had been sensing the oncoming rainstorm, since they were both a deer and a spider, two animals that were able to predict weather changes. He suddenly felt silly for worrying so much, and honestly he should have seen this coming. It seemed to have escaped his mind, since there hadn’t been a thunderstorm in hell for literal centuries, the last one being way before they had fallen in hell. There had been some acid rain here and there, but nothing as harsh as this. Alastor turned to Angel to give him the good news, but found himself frozen in place once he saw that his son was no longer sitting on top of the covers, but was now under them. Angel had closed his eyes shut, clutching a pillow tightly as he sat in a fetal position, his knees up to his chest, shivering violently. This made him felt helpless and pathetic, but he couldn’t help it.

 _He’s scared of thunderstorms,_ Alastor realized.

It all made sense now. Why he sensed the storm way before Alastor could, why he was much more worried, why he was hiding under the covers and shivering. Alastor wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. He didn’t know how to deal with people and their fears, because no one had dared to willingly show weakness in front of him. Angel had been the first person to deem him trustworthy enough to do that, which had been a grave error. Alastor would never tell him that, though. Another crash of thunder and a flinch from under the covers brought him back to reality. There had to be something he could do, even if it was just empty words of comfort. Things couldn’t stay like this. He summoned his microphone again, allowing it to slide down his hand and hit the carpeted floor without making a sound. He needed to do something to help Angel stop thinking about the thunderstorm. He needed… He needed…

He needed _a distraction._

“Angel.” He received nothing but a fearful hum in response. “Why did the invisible man turn down the job offer? He couldn't see himself doing it!” This was the only thing he could think of: dad jokes. Angel seemed to despise these, but if he shifted his attention to them instead of the thunder roaring outside, this night might go off without a hitch. And, surprisingly, _it worked._ Angel took the covers off his head to give Alastor a glare of disbelief, eyes narrowed. Alastor kept it up. “Why couldn't the bike stand up by itself? It was two-tired!” Alastor had a never ending supply of dad jokes just waiting to be told, so he could keep this up all night if needed. Angel groaned and pushed the covers and pillow aside. He got off the bed and decided to just sit on the floor instead, his knees pressed against his chest while he hugged them with his lower set of arms. Alastor did not understand why he felt the need to do that, but decided to follow, kneeling down to sit on the carpeted floor next to his son. Well, the carpet was pretty fluffy, at least.

“My mother was really mad at the fact that I had no sense of direction. So I packed up my stuff and right!” Alastor continued with a howl of laughter, and Angel felt like he was going crazy. He used his upper set of hands to cover the place where his ears would be, but it surely wasn’t going to help his situation. There was a thunderclap outside, but he no longer cared about that. He could feel nothing more but pure annoyance towards the dad jokes and the man telling them. It was weird how his anxiety took a dip, but he thought nothing of it at first.

“Stop.”

Alastor would not stop. If he did, Angel would once again focus on the thunderstorm, and he could not let that happen. Besides, telling Angel dad jokes and annoying him was fun. This was what dads did, right? “How do you make holy water? You boil the hell out of it!” A laughing track came from his cane. Angel felt his eye twitch in annoyance. However, he did notice that the feeling of doom that lied at the bottom of his stomach had lessened a little. Huh, that was weird. He imagined it would get worse with these damn jokes, because he sure felt like his death was near.

“I'm going to have a stroke.”

“I bought some shoes from a drug dealer. I don't know what he laced them with, but I was tripping all day!”

At that point, Angel Dust had enough of this. He would no longer stay there, simply listening to these jokes. This time he would do something about it. “Are you French? Because Eiffel for you!” He said as smoothly as possible, and Alastor found himself taken aback. Angel laughed at his reaction, which was priceless. “Yeah, that's right! If you're gonna say your shitty dad jokes, then I'm gonna say my shitty pick-up lines. Vengeance!” he yelled with a raised fist. In that exact moment, lightning struck, followed by the roar of the thunder, and while it was badass, Angel couldn’t help but flinch upon hearing it. Why was thunder so loud and scary? God, he sounded like a little child just thinking about that, but it was basically instinct at this point. Still, Angel couldn’t let this distract him. He had just declared war on his father and he was not going to lose.

Alastor was not at all deterred by the sudden pick-up line. If Angel wanted a war, he would have a war. “Oh, is that so? If you’re so focused on France now, then tell me, Angel: did you know French fries aren't actually cooked in France? They're cooked in Greece!” And he had the audacity to laugh at his own joke. Angel hated it.

“Oh, what a mystery that wasn't actually a mystery and no one cared about! But I have to say, there is something wrong with my cell phone. It doesn't have your number in it!” Angel wished he had brought his phone just for the visuals. It sure would’ve made his joke better. There was more thunder, more lightning, but Angel was too focused on winning that he stopped caring. In fact, the sound of the rain outside was rather soothing. Alastor chuckled as he witnessed the events unfold. His plan had worked perfectly.

“I don't have a cellphone, but I do have another question for you: if a child refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?”

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘u’ and ‘i’ together!” And suddenly it became a third world war as the two of them began to raise their voices, turning their little mock-bickering into a screaming match. Thankfully nobody lived next to Alastor’s room, or else this would’ve been a disastrous night for them.

“I'm reading a book about anti-gravity. It's impossible to put down!”

“Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see!”

“What do you call someone with no body and no nose? Nobody knows!”

“Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got 'fine' written all over you!”

“Did you know that cemeteries are very popular? People are just dying to get in!”

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”

“Why can't you hear a psychiatrist go to the bathroom? Because the 'p' is silent!”

“Are you an elevator? Because I’ll—” Angel suddenly burst out laughing, putting both his hands on his face as he felt like it could’ve burned brighter than the lightning that occasionally lit up the room if it wasn’t for his fur. Nope, not that pick-up line. “I can't do this. I can't!” And he started laughing harder, letting himself fall on the carpeted floor. The roaring of the thunders outside were long forgotten. “Fuck, I lost the war,” he accepted, taking a deep breath and sitting up again. He close his eyes, once again sitting in a fetal position. Angel found it often helped his anxiety to stay like this. “You were trying to distract me, right?” Alastor did not respond, but Angel didn’t need an answer. They sat in silence for a while before Angel found enough courage to say, “My adoptive mom, Florence Ragno, died during a thunderstorm. Seeing her dead body in her bed, her eyes peacefully closed while the lightning struck outside… I’ve been scared of them ever since.” Angel didn’t know there were thunderstorms in hell. If he did, he might’ve been better prepared for them. Rain did not bother him, but thunder and lightning? Those made him hide under the covers.

“I see,” Alastor said, nodding. He did not have any words of comfort to give Angel, because he was sure he would just make things worse. What Angel needed right now was to rest and try to forget about all of this. Standing up, Alastor offered a hand to Angel, who hesitantly accepted. “You should go back to sleep. I’ll stay here if you need anything.” It wasn’t the first time Alastor had gone twenty-four hours without sleep, and it wouldn’t be the last. Right now, he needed Angel to take his mind off of his trauma and rest a little bit, because that was the only thing he could offer him. Any comfort would be awkward and probably insincere, as he was terrible at anything related to emotions, just as Angel was terrible at telling lies. Perhaps this was a skill he should look into learning. He would have to talk to Charlie about that.

“I’m not sleepy,” Angel replied, feeling offended that he was being treated so gently. It wasn’t like he would break if the wind hit him. Besides, he could go back to his own bed, right? That option sounded horrible, to be honest. And, once again, he was definitely _not_ exhausted. Was he a little tired? Maybe, but he could still go on with their fight all night. He was ready to let out some truly groundbreaking pick-up lines. Their battle would be legendary, he just knew it. However, Angel was immediately discredited when a yawn escaped his lips. Angel froze, and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh.”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek, considering his options. Now that the cat was out of the bag, he had a choice to make. He didn’t actually want to sleep alone that night, because he was sure that storm wasn’t going away anytime soon, and the distraction their fight provided would only last so long. The thought of being alone in his room while the thunder roared outside was terrifying. He definitely would not be able to sleep, and would be on guard all night. “Okay, fine, but this war between us isn’t over!” Angel conceded as he started climbing Alastor’s bed, getting under the covers. It was good to know he wouldn’t be alone, but he felt very guilty for the fact that his father probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight.

“I wouldn’t expect it to be,” Alastor replied with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Angel.”

Angel yawned again, pressing his face against the fluffy pillow, slowly feeling himself fall asleep. While only half-conscious, he murmured, “Goodnight… Dad…”

Alastor froze in his tracks, and the sound of a record scratch could be heard coming from his microphone. He spun on his heels, hoping to ask Angel what that was about, but he was already fast asleep, gripping the sheets like a lifeline. After what seemed like a minute, Alastor shook his head and went to sit back in his chair, picking up the book and continuing where he had left off. However, he couldn’t take the situation out of his mind. It wasn’t the first time Angel Dust had called him ‘dad’, but the one time he did was a slip-up. What about this time? Was this one a slip-up as well? He had never even thought about it yet. As he thought about it, more questions came to haunt him. Would he be a good father, or was he bound to make the same mistakes that Philippe did? Alastor struggled to continue reading his book, and, for the third time that night, closed it with a sigh. His gaze lingered on Angel Dust, who was sleeping soundly. There was more thunder to be heard, but Angel did not even stir. Alastor allowed his smile to become sincere.

They would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angel: (tells pick-up line)  
> Alastor: finally, a worthy opponent! Our battle will be legendary!
> 
> I'm sorry for frying your brain with this amount of dad jokes/pick-up lines... I'm not that sorry.
> 
> I couldn't help but put this much amount of fluff in there. I just couldn't. Also, fun fact: spiders and deer can sense storms, apparently. Unless my google search was wrong. I mean, they don't sense it with literal anxiety but where would the fun in that be? I'm just dying imagining Alastor and Angel yelling dad jokes and pick-up lines at each other.
> 
> I do remember reading somewhere that Angel doesn't like storms, but I don't remember anything being confirmed, so this is my headcanon for now. Anyway, I hope y'all liked this ;w; now allow me to go back to my little corner and sleep for 14 hours.
> 
> Today's title is "Crises Happening", from Puella Magi Madoka Magica.


	9. Aggrieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel Dust was thankful that nothing had changed after the reveal. Or, well, so it seemed.
> 
> Perhaps he should have known better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well, well, guess who it is, ladies and gentlemen?
> 
> It's been a while lol. I was planning on posting this on my birthday, but I only had a week to write and I didn't wanna rush, so I said 'you know what? No, I'm gonna enjoy my birthday' so I'm posting this, like, two weeks later lol. I do not feel one year older, but I'm gonna have time for that. Anyway, onto the chapter! Also, I'm so sorry for my utter unability to write short chapters. I tried, I swear dgfdfgfdg. I just blinked and BAM, 14,000 words were sitting in front of me. Anyway, onto the chapter!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: EATING DISORDER, MENTIONS OF VOMITING, MENTIONS OF TRAUMA.

Angel Dust woke up dazed and groggy.

The first thing he registered were the rays of sunlight hitting the bed he was carelessly lying in (as well as his face), indicating it was already morning. While everything indicated he should get up, Angel wanted to lie down a bit longer. The covers were so fluffy and warm and welcoming… Was his room always like this? After a few seconds of silence, Angel hastily sat up as he realized that he _wasn’t_ in his room. Looking around, he could not find his usual pink walls and white curtains, but instead a room filled to the brim with red and brown. It assaulted his eyes like the light that came from the window, and Angel had to close them for a moment to process it. As he did, the memories of the events that transpired the night before came to mind. He remembered everything, from the crippling fear of the thunderstorm to the battle with Alastor. Ah, that explained everything. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Angel assessed the situation. Things weren’t so bad. He may have embarrassed himself a little in front of Alastor, but, if he was being honest, he would rather have to beg to not be left alone than to stay alone in his room all night with his thoughts and memories. Hell, he didn’t even _know_ hell was capable of having thunderstorms, but maybe he should have known. That place was full of the worst things imaginable, and storms did happen to be frightening to some people, himself included. Now that Angel Dust knew about this, he would be better prepared next time. Maybe he would buy some soundproof earmuffs and try to distract himself with pig videos. 

He wasn’t willing to hear more of Alastor’s dad jokes anytime soon.

After stretching a bit, Angel pulled the covers aside and jumped out of the bed. The first thing he noticed after doing so was the lack of a familiar white noise that had accompanied him throughout the night. That meant Alastor wasn’t there. Angel was slightly relieved upon finding that out. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to deal with everything that happened so soon. What time was it anyway? Angel looked around, trying to find a clock of some kind, and he _did_ find one. At the corner of the room proudly stood a grandfather clock, clean and polished like it had just come out the store. The spider raised an eyebrow. How did he not see this there the other times he visited Alastor’s room? The ticking was relentless. He _should_ have noticed. Well, it didn’t matter. The clock indicated it was a little after eight in the morning, which meant that Alastor had probably gone downstairs to eat breakfast. His stomach rumbled at the thought, and Angel remembered he hadn’t eaten dinner. It was a pity, because Alastor’s Jambalaya was to die for. Well, he could probably treat himself to a glass of juice today, as he needed to save calories for lunch. It wasn’t time to think about that right now, though. He had to leave the room and change out of his pajamas and into clean clothes before eight-thirty. Thankfully, breakfast time meant nobody was wandering the corridors, and thus nobody would catch him trying to sneak out of Alastor’s room and into his own.

Slowly opening the door just to be sure, Angel peeked into the hallway. There was no one in sight. With a quick but confident stride, he closed the door behind him and began to make his way to his room. Unsurprisingly, there was no one in sight. Everyone knew the meal schedules, and they all loved Niffty’s cooking, so of course they would be there on the dot. Angel, on the other hand, liked to take his time with things. He didn’t eat much, so there was no need to be there as soon as the pancakes were done. After about two minutes of walking, he finally reached his room. Walking inside, Angel Dust headed straight for his closet and picked out his clothes for the day. A white sweater would do, right? Well, it wasn’t like anyone cared about what he wore. Taking off his nightwear, he hastily put on the sweater and some black shorts. He still needed to brush his hair and re-apply his makeup, so he had to be fast.

Everything took roughly five minutes to do. Applying the makeup was rather easy, as it was like second nature to him. He knew exactly what colors went best with each other and which brush to use without even having to look. Once he deemed his looks acceptable, Angel put his kit aside and made his way to the kitchen. While walking, he remembered another thing that he should’ve remembered sooner: everyone knew. _The secret was out._ This made Angel stop on his tracks as his mind went blank. Ah, yes, that was right. He had completely forgotten about this. There was only one question to be asked: ‘what happens now?’ Angel had half a mind to spin on his heels, lock himself in his room, then just jump under the covers of his bed and stay there forever, but that wasn’t a feasible answer. He would have to get out of the hotel eventually to go to work (Valentino would kill him if he didn’t), and Alastor would probably nag him relentlessly if he didn’t at least show his face for breakfast. The thought of having to hear more dad jokes gave Angel shivers. Everything was going wrong in his life so far, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

With a long sigh, Angel continued to make his way to the kitchen, his dread growing with every step he took. Thousands of scenarios ran through his mind, and he decided to cling to the better ones of the bunch. Nobody would care, right? This was hell. They’ve seen worse things. In comparison, this whole situation was a child’s movie. In a sense, it did feel like some sort of cheesy family drama. A parent and a child that found each other through unconventional means? Was there anything more cliché than that? Actually, he could think of other things. Like romance movies. _Eugh._ He would have to beg Charlie to exclude him from movie night next time she decided they were going to watch yet another cheesy rom-com about two people who were painfully oblivious to their mutual pining. It was just too painful to bear.

Once the kitchen was in sight, Angel took a moment to collect his thoughts. It was going to be okay. He was going to walk in, Crymini was probably going to taunt him with some sort of insult, and then everyone would just continue eating their food normally. Yes, this was a very likely scenario that would very likely happen and was absolutely _not_ wishful thinking. After this was done, Angel made his presence known by walking into the kitchen. Looking around, he noticed things weren’t as chaotic as they usually were. Niffty was walking around with plates of pancakes and glasses of juice that she was handing to the patrons. No one knew how this poor girl, tiny as she was, managed to cook, but she did it without complaining. Besides, when they arrived the food was already prepared, so no one knew the secret to that mystery. Niffty probably got up early every single morning to prepare the food. Come to think of it, had they ever seen her sleep? Was she even capable of it? It seemed like this was one of the many mysteries of the hotel that would remain unsolved for the time being.

“Aw, look who decided to show up!” Crymini announced, noticing Angel standing on the doorway. Just as he predicted. Thankfully for him, nobody seemed to care. If this were any other day, the porn star would have been deeply offended. However, in times like these, going unnoticed was a blessing in disguise. Rolling his eyes, Angel made his way to one of the empty chairs and sat down, unsure of what he was going to do now. Hopefully this breakfast would go off without a hitch. His luck seemed rather good so far. He wouldn’t dare say this out loud, though. Every time someone said something like ‘things are too quiet in here’ it always ended in some form of disaster, because the universe believed it was being challenged. No, he would rather not die today, thank you very much.

Angel Dust suddenly felt a light pull on his sweater, and he looked down only to realize it was Niffty. She was holding a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice. Angel accepted both and nodded at her as she nodded back, going to fetch something to eat for herself. Putting the pancakes in front of him, Angel began to slowly sip the orange juice. What sort of excuse would he give for not eating today? Well, he could just eat it and then get rid of the problem later, but Angel hated purging. It reminded him too much of Valentino and his… _Methods._ Quite unfortunately, if he wanted to avoid being scolded for avoiding breakfast for an entire week, Angel would have to eat it. It was only after cutting a small piece off of the stack of pancakes that Angel noticed the whole kitchen was silent. _Too_ silent. It was almost unnatural. He wasn’t the only one who noticed this, apparently.

“Jesus, why is everyone so fucking quiet?” Crymini asked, throwing her hands in the air. “Y’all are boring me to death, I swear to god.” Ah, he knew it was too good to be true. She _had_ to go and jinx it, didn’t she?

“We’re not here to entertain you, kid,” Husk replied with a huff, narrowing his eyes like a disapproving grandparent. Angel chuckled mentally. He already had all of the qualifications.

“I disagree!” Alastor interjected cheerfully. Angel couldn’t believe he didn’t sleep at all. The man looked the same as the day before. There were no dark circles under his eyes, his hair was flawless, and his suit did not have a single wrinkle on it; everything was in perfect order. What even _was_ Alastor? “You all entertain me on a daily basis.” Ah, there it was. Angel almost choked on the piece of pancake he had been eating when he chuckled. Thankfully, his coughing was somewhat discreet. It didn’t stop Alastor from giving him a look, though. Angel Dust suddenly found himself glad that he decided to eat the pancakes. They were _very_ good. Niffty had really outdone herself this time. Or, well, seemingly outdone herself, because Angel hadn’t eaten the breakfast she had prepared for an entire week. Speaking of Niffty, she seemed very concentrated on something, because she was holding a small notebook and tapping a pencil on her chin, eye narrowed in concentration. Angel raised an eyebrow. What was she doing?

“You okay there, Niff?” he asked.

Niffty sighed, putting her notebook and pencil down. “I want to write a new fanfic, but I have no idea what kind of plot I want to write!”

Angel Dust thought about this for a moment as he ate his pancakes. He wasn’t as good of a fanfiction writer as Niffty (she had showed him some of her work and boy, did she have a way with words), but he did have some solid ideas he could share. Racking his brain for an answer, Angel finally found something interesting from the obscure depths of his mind. “Okay, picture this,” he dramatically told the small cyclops, getting her attention. “You know that movie, Beauty and the Beast?” Niffty nodded. That was one of her favorite movies. Angel hated it, but he knew how much she liked to write fanfiction of her favorite movies and shows. And, well, they had watched this goddamn movie more than three times at her insistence, so he was well-acquainted with the plot by now. “What if Belle broke up with the prince after his transformation because she’s secretly a furry?”

Niffty gasped, her eye twinkling in excitement. “This is genius!”

“What the fuck...?” Husk murmured. There were not enough brain cells in this world that would ever make him understand those two.

“Quiet, we’re brainstorming!” Niffty scolded him as she and Angel went back to whispering about the specifics of the plot. No one else could hear them, but it wasn’t like they wanted to anyway. Angel Dust suddenly didn’t care that much that the room was quiet. At least he had something to distract himself with. Besides, this gave him an excuse to not eat breakfast, since Niffty wasn’t eating hers either. They were both too focused on the angsty reveal of Belle’s secret to care about that right now. There was just something incredibly cathartic about simply forgetting about your problems and figuring out how to squeeze in some hate sex in a furry fanfiction. Husk rolled his eyes and went back to eating his breakfast. Every day got weirder and weirder in that damn hotel. It’s not like he cared anymore, though. He had stopped caring since day one.

After putting her empty glass of orange juice down, Mimzy cleared her throat. “So, um, are we ever going to talk about last night?” Everyone turned to her. If the room wasn’t silent before, it sure was now, the reality of the situation finally setting in. Angel could feel himself break into a cold sweat. He had hoped everyone had forgotten about what had happened the day before. It was just his luck that this wouldn’t be the case. He thought about exchanging glances with Alastor to know what his father was thinking, but he found himself frozen in place, unable to think or move or do anything that would help him in this case. How the hell was he going to escape this conversation this time? Saying he was going to work was an option. Maybe he suddenly had an upset stomach. He could easily break his leg if needed. He would do anything to escape this hell.

“Yeah, you know what? Let’s do that,” Crymini, a natural agent of chaos, agreed with a mischievous smirk.

“How about we don’t?” Angel, who was panicking inside, asked, although it came awfully close to begging. He had hoped everyone would put this behind them and act like nothing happened. However, Mimzy was a busybody and Crymini was an asshole. Together, they made the perfect duo for screwing him over. His stomach was twisting in knots now, and Angel was glad he didn’t eat that much. It seemed like Niffty’s fanfiction had saved him, it seemed. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to explore this topic, but he was. Maybe it was the fact that it was something so personal to him, and he didn’t even get to tell the others on his own volition. And now they were asking questions he didn’t want to answer, and it was starting to bother him. His relationship with Alastor was their business and _their_ business only. Why did the others feel like they had a right to it? However, he knew Alastor didn’t feel the same. His father has some narcissistic tendencies, including the need for constant entertainment and attention, which is why he seemed to be milking the situation as much as possible. Angel, on the other hand, hated everything about this. He did feel like a hypocrite, though. If this had happened to someone else, wouldn’t he want to know as much as possible about it?

“Aw, are you scared, Alastor Jr.?” taunted Crymini.

“Very,” Angel Dust spoke in utter deadpan.

He wasn’t actually _scared._ It was more like he was dreading everything about this. It would have been okay if the reveal had happened in a controlled environment where Angel was the one who had delivered the news, but that wasn’t his reality and he needed to accept that. It seemed like suddenly everything in the room became more interesting than everyone’s faces. Why couldn’t he just go back to talking about furry porn with Niffty? He missed that, and it was happening only a few seconds ago. Well, once again, he was reaping what he sowed. Angel had to learn how to control his impulsivity, just as the others had to learn not to get into his business. Yes, he and Alastor were related. So what? Just because this was one of the most interesting things that happened to the hotel to date it didn’t mean they got to invade their privacy with their constant nagging. Angel was already tired of this shit and nobody had even _begun_ to ask anything. Was it too late to pretend he was going to work? He could use a day with Cherri Bomb. Maybe cause some general mayhem, blow one of Sir Pentious’s blimps up, who knows? All he wanted to do was get away from that place.

“Do we have to talk about that?” Vaggie asked, eyeing her pancakes with the emptiest stare she’s had in a while. “The silence was so nice.” At last, something Angel and Vaggie could agree on. He could concur that everything she said right now was a solid mood. Vaggie, on the other hand, just wanted to eat her damn pancakes in peace. She had been in the middle of an existential crisis for a while now, and the idea of Alastor as the father of Angel Dust was the nail in the coffin for that. Why were these things even happening to them? What had they done? For a moment, too focused on her own misery, she had completely forgotten she was in hell. That explained a lot, didn’t it? Stabbing her pancakes (they didn’t deserve this kind of treatment, she admitted), Vaggie found herself once again contemplating the meaning of existence. Why did she even bother?

“I must say, Alastor, I never expected you to be one to want children,” Mimzy commented, circling the edges of her cup with her index finger. She had known Alastor for a while, both on Earth and in hell, and she never expected him to be one to have children of his own. He had always clearly expressed his disdain of other people in a narcissistic, bitter, I-am-better-than-you manner, all while maintaining his charm and composure. So, for him to simply decide to throw his beliefs out the window in favor of, who knows, continuing his bloodline or something, was incredibly surprising. It wasn’t an entirely unwelcome thought, however. Mimzy just wished he had told her about it, since she thought they were close enough to share these kinds of secrets with each other. Besides, she would’ve been an amazing aunt.

“Oh, he didn’t. I was a complete accident, just like I continue to be,” Angel replied simply, watching as everyone’s jaws dropped. ‘Now _that_ is entertainment,’ he was sure his father would say. He took a sip out of his orange juice, imagining it was the hottest tea he had ever drank in his life. Angel Dust had to admit he never really thought about that, though. He had expected that, with him and Molly being ‘twins’, at least one of them was unplanned, which was fine, but they never got to know which one of them was, especially since identical twins (which they were definitely not) were basically clones of each other, making it virtually impossible to know which one of them was the original and which one was the copy. Molly and Angel would often speculate which of them was the extra. Molly would always argue that she was older than him by three minutes, therefore making her the original, and Angel would always let her ‘win’ this argument because he had no way to explain that this wasn’t how it worked. However, now that the cat was out of the bag, Angel knew _he_ was the unplanned surprise. Twice.

“Dude, why would you diss yourself like that?” Crymini asked, as usually she was the one who would make this sort of comment. Angel took another long sip from his juice.

“Spite.”

She rested her chin on her hands. “That's so sad. Alexa, play Despacito.”

“Alexa, how do I kill someone without leaving any evidence?” That reminded him that he had forgotten to get his phone when he changed his clothes upstairs. He really needed to stop forgetting about it. He was sure that, one day, this would come back and bite him in the ass.

“I can help you in that regard,” Alastor piped up quite cheerfully. Angel Dust actually stopped to think about that for a second, and he found the idea hilarious. However, he wouldn’t discard it entirely. If there was an enemy he needed gone, he could easily chuck his father at them and they would be gone in a second, either by their own volition or not. Should he be using one of his parents as a method of torture against anyone who mildly inconvenienced him? Probably not. Would he do it anyway? Probably. What good was having an overlord father if he didn’t slightly abuse that power anyway? Would Alastor care? He probably wouldn’t. Angel was well-aware of his murderous and cannibalistic tendencies, and he couldn’t care less. He had seen people go to hell for way worse crimes, and being stuck in hell for seventy years had kind of desensitized him at this point. Besides, it’s not like he hasn’t generally harmed a ton of sinners himself, and maybe permanently (emphasizing the ‘permanently’ because no one could really die in hell, except during very specific circumstances) killed a dozen eggs or so. No one actually cared, though. They were in hell. This was an everyday occurrence.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Angel replied, halfheartedly raising his glass of juice in the air, as if to make a toast, and then taking another sip. He didn’t really care about the calorie count at this point. He could make it all go away easily enough. The thought still disgusted him, however. He really thought he would get over it eventually, but inducing vomit for whatever reason always brought back bad memories, no matter how hard he tried to bury them in the back of his mind. Some things weren’t meant to stay hidden, he guessed. All Angel Dust could really do was get it over with and go back to living in his world of never-ending denial and pretending he was perfectly okay when everyone knew he was, in fact, very much not. And suddenly the breakfast in front of him didn’t seem as appetizing as it used to be.

Charlie decided it was a good time to interject. “Guys, no one's going to kill anyone.”

“Why not?” Baxter asked.

“It's rude.”

He didn't know enough about social etiquette to know if she was actually correct or not, so Baxter wouldn’t try to correct her on that. “Ok.” And, with that said, the room dove back into complete silence for a while, which, for Angel, was unbearable, despite him knowing it contradicting his need for peace and quiet a few moments ago. However, right now, silence meant no distraction, and no distraction meant he was alone with all of his thoughts, and that couldn’t happen. There was a reason Angel Dust was constantly doing something, and it was to distract himself. If he didn’t, he would start to think and remember and reminisce and wallow in his own misery, and it would be hard to pull himself out of that state without a new distraction that was louder and flashier than his thoughts. For the first few years of his afterlife, Angel would allow himself the privilege of sitting in his room alone, in the dark, thinking about everything that had happened to him. However, that was during the beginning, when he only had fourteen years of misery to process. After seventy more years of bullshit he had to endure, Angel realized he could no longer afford to think about it. So, after years of trying to prevent himself from living in constant denial, he learned to embrace it instead.

With a groan that perfectly represented his current boredom, Angel ran a hand through his hair. “I feel so tired and gay and tired.” Why were feelings so complicated? And why did he have to be born with them? Why couldn’t he be like Alastor? It wasn’t like his dad didn’t have feelings. He did! It’s just that he seemed to have some sort of cheap knock-off version of all emotions, like a diet version of every feeling in the world. If not, then perhaps he could just turn them off when he needed to become a cold-hearted murderer, or something. Maybe, instead of speculating about it, he could just ask Alastor later. Now that their secret was out, they no longer needed to hide and have secret meetings in his room. However, Angel still wanted to have secret meetings. They were pretty fun, and the secrecy added an extra layer of thrill to the mix. Of course, most of the thrill would be gone since he was aware that they could no longer be caught, but he would take it.

“You said tired twice and being gay is not a feeling,” Baxter corrected.

“Anything is a feeling if you try hard enough. For example, right now I feel like kicking you in the head and then turning your brain into jello to feed to my pet pig,” Angel explained, remaining as calm and composed as he could in this situation. He could have _not_ threatened Baxter, but he kind of wanted to know if he had a hidden talent for being menacing. He knew that it would be hard, especially with his ‘pretty face’, but Angel was confident that, with enough practice, he could pull it off. And, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to. Maybe it would have been in his genes all along. Deep down, the spider really wanted to try being a little more intimidating. Perhaps this would be a hint to all of his clients who saw him on the street and got a little too handsy for his liking. Oh, what he would give to have Crymini’s resting bitch face. Everyone knew not to mess with _her._ Although it _did_ make him wonder if being famous was what made everyone think that he was public property. He would have to investigate that further. But not now. For the time being, he had other priorities.

Baxter shrunk a little in his seat, and Angel suppressed the urge to smirk victoriously. “I feel scared for my safety.” Well, that was a success. It was a shame no one else in the hotel was as easily intimidated. Perhaps he would have to train on unsuspecting bystanders, but that could easily backfire on him. His ‘pretty face’ wouldn’t protect him from everything, even though that was actually a lie, and Angel could easily use his beauty as a means to escape. He just didn’t want to rely on that strategy forever. Being intimidating could have its advantages in the long run.

“See? You get it now!”

“What are you tired of?” Mimzy asked. Angel Dust took a moment to register the question, because he was still very tired, and then vaguely motioned towards everything. “I don't get it.” He repeated the gesture, and Mimzy narrowed her eyes, _really_ taking it in, before answering, “Nope, still don't get it.” Angel visibly deflated. It was too early for him to have to deal with this, he concluded. The urge to go back to sleep was strong, but he needed to deal with it. He had work to do today. Maybe that would wake him up.

“Life,” he finally answered. Before anyone could say anything else, Angel pulled his sweater’s sleeve up and pretended he was checking a wristwatch that, as everyone could see, definitely did not exist. “Wow, would you look at that! It’s very late.” It wasn’t. He was lying through his teeth, and he no longer cared that everyone could call him out on his bullshit at any minute. “I should go to work now.” It took him a second to realize he wasn’t wearing the proper attire to go to work, as he had opted for a more casual look for breakfast. Oh well, it didn't really matter if he was in a sweater or not, because he had an extra suit at the studio. It was a good thing Angel had remembered that, because he did not have the energy to go back to his room. His tiredness had transcended time and space this time around. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t slept in his room the night before? Being in an unfamiliar environment probably contributed to his state. That and the fact that he had stayed up past midnight yelling pick-up lines at his father. And speaking of the devil...

“Angel, it’s eight in the morning,” Alastor protested. Angel had really been hoping he wouldn’t say anything about the matter. The last thing he wanted to do was start a discussion between them, especially in front of everyone else. Sure, they knew about their biological relationship, but they didn’t need to know anything else other than that. The arguing was the worst part, though, because when Angel argued, he reminded himself of Alastor, and no one else needed that realization. He didn’t want them to know how alike they were personality-wise. It was irrational to try and hide it, because the others would soon figure that out, whether he liked it or not. In the meantime, though, Angel would attempt to delay the inevitable as much as possible.

“Well, you know what they say: ‘the early worm gets the bird’ or whatever,” he replied nonchalantly while standing up while waving his hand dismissively. It took the others a second to process what had just been said.

“Wow, that sentence was entirely wrong,” Crymini commented.

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you see, I’m very tired, which has severely hindered my ability to give a fuck. See ya.” With that said, he quickly left the room, not waiting for his father’s response to that. If Alastor had said something, it had fallen on deaf ears. 

Thankfully for him, the front door was unlocked. Angel was relieved, because otherwise he would have to go back to the kitchen and ask Charlie or Vaggie for the key, and that meant more awkwardness that he was not yet ready to deal with. However, this meant that someone had forgotten to lock the door last night. Well, whoever was in charge of that would be in _a lot_ of trouble. He knew for sure that Vaggie would have their head on a silver platter if she found out. She valued safety a lot, and with good reason. Hell was full of murderers and thieves, and the hotel didn’t exactly have the best security system, by which he meant that it didn’t have a security system at all. The only reason they hadn’t yet been targeted was because of Alastor’s presence. No one would dare mess with the Radio Demon _or_ his territory. And, well, even if the Happy Hotel wasn’t officially considered his territory, it had been claimed as such, and nobody would dare try and contest that. If they did, they would definitely regret it for the rest of their lives. Or what would be left of it.

Stepping outside was a breath of fresh air. Literally. It seemed like this was going to be a windy day. Angel knew those were very rare. The weather in hell generally varied from ‘hot’ to ‘scalding’, but nothing more than that, so whenever there was a rainy or windy day, they all learned to cherish it while it lasted. After taking a few steps outside, he noticed the puddles of water everywhere. Oh, of course. He had almost forgotten about the thunderstorm that had occurred yesterday. Maybe that was the reason for the cool breeze that had come to bless his day. Well, at least one good thing came out of that disaster of a night. Angel didn’t want to think about that, though. He had to go to work, and it was quite a walk from the hotel to the studio. If he rushed, he could get there in twenty-five minutes, and then get tackled by Calliope, who would definitely have some hot gossip to tell him. Well, hopefully it would be a fun day.

Satan knew he needed a distraction.

**_. . ._ **

“Today we're going to explore the trolley problem.” 

The walls of the room they hosted their group therapy sessions in were starting to become awfully familiar, almost claustrophobic. Charlie rhythmically tapped her pen on the clipboard she was holding. “In case you guys don't know what it is, don’t worry, I'll explain! Imagine you're riding a trolley and there are two paths you can take: one path has five demons working on them, and the other only has one. The trolley is heading towards the path with five workers, and you have a choice to make: change the path, or let it run its course. What do you guys do?” She had been exploring different possibilities of therapy, but doing this also couldn’t hurt, right? The answers would definitely put everyone’s thought process into perspective. Charlie herself has thought about this for a long time, ever since she first heard of said problem’s existence. The logical solution would be to kill only one demon to spare the other five, but was that really moral? Just thinking about that hypothetical demon’s family gave her immense guilt, and they didn’t even exist! It was a very hard choice. Charlie could understand why they decided it was a good moral question.

“Who's driving the trolley?” Angel, who had barely been listening, asked.

“You all are.”

“Who let us in change of a goddamn trolley?” Mimzy asked, flabbergasted. She knew the people in that room, and none of them should be going anywhere near anything that was made of solid metal and could kill people. Not one of them was responsible enough for this type of duty, not even her, and she wasn’t saying this just because she didn’t know how to drive. Well, that was the main reason, of course, but still. Everyone seemed to be asking themselves the same question that Mimzy did, since it seemed like no one got the spirit of the question. That, or maybe they wanted to know when a situation like this would arise. Mimzy knew that no responsible person would look at them all, allow them to drive a trolley, then think ‘hm, yes, this is a sane and responsible decision’. If she were their boss, they would be fired immediately. Preferably out of a cannon, but the traditional way was good too.

“I don't know, but I bet they're about to be turned into pudding,” Crymini answered, finding this imaginary scenario interesting all of a sudden. “Anyway, my solution would be to try and run over everyone. Boom! Equality.”

“How would you do that?” Baxter questioned.

“Parkour.”

“Charlie, do we know anything about the people we are running over?” Alastor asked, interested in the question. Charlie was surprised he was actually participating, but then she remembered this was _Alastor_ she was talking about, and there was definitely a catch. Everyone knew Alastor. If he was asking questions, this meant he was onto something, and Charlie had her pencil ready to write whatever he was pretending on answering. The others were dreading this just as much, while Angel wasn’t even worried about it. He had spent a lot of time with his father. It was enough time to become desensitized to whatever the deer demon spouted. And, damn, there was _a lot._ Alastor was great at poetry, but all of his poems seemed to involve murder and cannibalism in some way or another. Angel Dust continued to listen to him nonetheless, either because he was desperate for some sort of connection or because it was truly interesting to see into the mind of a serial killer, who knew? Surely not him.

“No, they're strangers to you,” Charlie replied.

“Good, then I'll have no remorse!” As expected of Alastor, of course. He was definitely having fun with this. It was a change of pace from all of the weird therapy tricks that the princess was constantly trying to apply to their lives. He wasn’t too interested in the moral side of things, but it was fun nonetheless. How could he choose between killing five people and one person? Any sane being would say that it was a hard question, and he agreed, but for completely different reasons. Alastor watched as the princess gave him her official ‘blank stare of disappointment’. He was used to that at this point. Angel Dust and Crymini, on the other hand, were struggling not to laugh. Why was everything that happened during group therapy so ridiculously over the top and nonsensical? And why did they love it? Perhaps they just thrived off of the discord that took place during these reunions.

“Can you guys take this seriously, please?” Vaggie begged.

Niffty politely raised her hand, as if she were in a classroom. Somehow, it really felt like one. A really, really chaotic classroom. With no teacher. And everyone was really high. “Wait, are we all inside the trolley at the same time or are we on different trolleys?” This wasn’t fundamentally important to the question, but she needed to know. Would she have to fight for control over the trolley? If she wanted to run over only one person, and Alastor wanted to run over five (because he definitely would), would she have to bite his ankle for the wheel? Wait, did trolleys even have wheels? She’d never been on a trolley before. Maybe they were like cars? Those were the details no one ever thought of sharing. Meanwhile, everyone watched Vaggie visibly lose hope for everyone in the room. She had been doing this for days now, and it wasn’t getting any better with time. She thought it might, but she was wrong, very wrong. The tolerance did not build up.

“Does it matter?”

“Answer the fucking question,” demanded Crymini.

“You're all on separate trolleys. You cannot see, talk, hear, or touch each other, which means you cannot influence each other's decisions either.”

“You forgot taste and smell. Five senses, Vaggie,” Angel responded, leaning back against his chair. He had never taken these group therapy sessions seriously to begin with, and he wasn’t going to start now. Besides, this whole thing was pointless. Demons couldn’t die in hell by being run over unless the trolley was somehow holy (which meant Charlie had forgotten to disclose this very important detail that could change everything). He knew this because he had watched countless sinners being run over on the streets while he worked, and it was treated as an everyday occurrence, since they would eventually heal from their wounds. Nothing was really damaged except for their egos, and also maybe their physical forms, but the pain was only temporary. Well, there were _mental_ scars, of course, but they would heal with time... Hopefully.

“Is there a way to stop the trolley?” Baxter asked, not really understanding the spirit of the question. None of them seemed to get it. Either that, or they just didn’t care. One of those was more likely than the other. Baxter, however, liked having clear answers for things, and looking at them in a more logical sense. Moral philosophy wasn’t really his strong suit, which meant that Charlie would have to come with a logical answer for his question. It would be hard, but she could pull it off. If she remained calm and collected, this group therapy wouldn’t break out into a fight this time. She had high hopes.

“No, the trolley's braking system is broken.”

“I run over five people and then sue the manufacturer for emotional damages,” Angel Dust responded, not daring take anything seriously anymore.

“Go get them, Alastor 2.0,” replied Crymini, amused. Angel didn’t answer. Ever since she found out Angel was related to Alastor, she started using all sorts of nicknames for him. Alastor Junior, Alastor 2.0, Mini-Alastor (this one being very ironic, considering the height difference). The list was endless. And yet, despite his annoyance, there was a small part of him that found this incredibly amusing. Maybe there _were_ some similarities between him and his father. What a surprise! It’s not like that was how genetics worked or anything… People always seemed shocked to find out how similar they were, and how they never noticed it. The way they hid their insecurities behind confident personas, the sheer stubbornness, the hidden deadliness behind a pretty face… Angel could go on and on about everything he discovered during those weeks he spent with Alastor, just talking about things in general (and sometimes Alastor would derail those conversations to talk about his murders, but he digressed), but then he would go on yet another rant, and nobody wanted that.

“And why would you choose to run over five people when you can run over just one?” Charlie asked, pausing to write the answer on her clipboard (she still needed to analyze them later). She had expected some of the responses to be grim — after all, those were sinners who were just now, after centuries of being in hell, learning how to be good people —, but she didn't really expect any of this. Sometimes it felt like she was the protagonist of some sort of old sitcom. Angel paused for a moment, as if to think of a good answer. It didn’t matter, though, because Charlie knew he already had something in mind. Angel was sharp and witty when he wanted to be (something he seemed to have inherited from his father), so for him to not have an answer on the go was unheard of. He had started many, many fights because of his sharp tongue and inability to shut up, as well as cause many problems for himself as well (like when he outed himself and Alastor for everyone at the hotel). With a smirk and a shrug, Angel replied:

“Maximum profit…?” He phrased it in a way that made it seem like he was considering it, but not entirely, which everyone knew was bullshit. Angel’s moral compass was a russian roulette, that much was apparent. Yet another thing he might have inherited from Alastor, who was just standing there, watching everything go down without saying a word. Biting her lip, Charlie wrote it down. It seemed like they had a long way ahead of them.

“I'd run over the five people because I'd be blackout drunk and passed out at the wheel,” Husk replied, completely hungover. He wanted to stay in his room and rest, but Niffty insisted he come because she didn’t want to be alone, so he begrudgingly went along with it. Oh, the things he did for friendship. Besides that, he wasn’t remotely interested in today’s topic. So people got run over, who cared? A bunch of demons died every year because of the exterminations and everyone seemed fine with it. Now they cared about demons who wouldn’t even die? Wait, why was he even asking himself this? Of course Charlie cared. She cared about everyone and everything, including him. She sometimes gave him medicine for his hangovers and made sure no one could disturb him. He hated to admit it, but that girl was growing on him. And it seemed like he wasn’t the only one. Everyone seemed to have a soft spot for Charlie, even if they constantly dissed her while she proposed her poorly thought-out ideas for how to make them grow as people, such as the biweekly group therapy that they dreaded so much.

Niffty gasped, as if Husk’s statement had personally offended her. “Don't drink and drive!”

“I was shoved into that fucking trolley against my will. I'll do whatever the hell I want,” Husk replied, already growing tired of everything. If he could jump out against a window, any window (no matter the height of the fall), he would. Even if he didn’t have wings. Actually, even with wings, because when was the last time he actually used them for something besides making himself look bigger to threaten the people at the bar who got too drunk for their own good? Husk sometimes wondered when the need for his wings would arise. He was the only one with them in the hotel, apparently. However, it wasn’t like they would need him to change a light bulb when they had an eight-feet spider that could jump fifty feet in the damn air and a deer that could easily summon a horde of tentacles that would annihilate anything in their way... Now that he thought about it, he was surrounded by a bunch of freaks (himself included). Maybe that explained everything.

“I'd like to remind you all that you're not inside an actual trolley. This is just hypothetical,” Vaggie commented. At least no one was fighting this time (she was definitely talking about Angel and Crymini). That was good, right? For a moment, she considered Alastor as a factor for this, but it wasn’t like Crymini would care about who Angel was related to, nor would she care about being intimidated in general. So why were things so calm all of a sudden? They had been doing this for a while now, and she knew for a fact that there was _always_ a fight. This was the only instance where no one had thrown insults towards each other. Charlie should really be writing this down. Whatever they were doing, they needed to do it more often, since those dog fights were getting tiring to watch _and_ break apart. It was a blessing that they only had to do this twice a week.

“Then why are we doing this?”

“It's a moral challenge,” Charlie explained. “Would one choose to let the trolley run naturally and kill five people, or change the course and be responsible for one death? You have to debate the pros and cons.”

“I'll let it run its course. The pro is that I kill five people, and the con is that I miss one!” Alastor said with such cheerfulness that it made everyone slightly uncomfortable. Well, everyone except for Husk, Niffty, and Angel, who were used to his capricious answers at this point in time. In fact, they were wondering when Alastor would say something like this. It only took a few minutes, which was a new record for him.

“I fix the braking system because I'm an engineering genius,” Baxter responded, his head held high.

“Can I jump out of the trolley?” Crymini asked, her voice showing no emotion whatsoever.

Niffty had other priorities, it seemed. “Are there any men in the tracks? And if so, are they cute? Are they single?” Everyone stared at her like she had grown a second eye.

“I don't know how to drive,” said Mimzy.

“What the heck is wrong with you people?” Vaggie asked, still in disbelief.

Angel’s smirk widened as he heard that. “I’m glad you asked! I actually made a list of all the things that are wrong with me,” he piped up in excitement, pulling out his phone from his pocket (he hadn’t forgotten it this time around). That’s where he kept all of his notes and random thoughts he had at three in the morning. He didn’t know what he would do without that phone, really. “It's five pages long and half the reasons are Alastor's fault.” All eyes fell on the aforementioned sinner, who didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t know what he expected. With a shrug, he simply replied:

“That’s fair.”

Alastor had never really thought about it that way. _Were_ things his fault? Maybe a few of them, sure. Some of Angel's personality traits seemed to have come straight from him, and he couldn't be more proud of that. Alastor hated kids. He never wanted them, and he swore to never have them. Well, it seemed like fate had other plans for him. It was cliché to say it at this point, but having his own child was different in a way. This was someone he created, a part of him and his legacy, and, while he still strongly disliked all kinds of children, infants, and teenagers, Alastor suddenly understood why parents bragged about their own children all the time. His reputation would never allow him to be openly proud of his son, unfortunately, but he knew Angel did not need public praise. They were both happy with what they had right now.

“Alright, let's forget the trolley. How about we try a different situation instead?” Charlie offered with a clap of her hands, suppressing the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. She would do anything to get this to work, including trying to change the problem to something similar, like she had read in her books. Besides, things were going great right now! No one had threatened each other _yet,_ which was a sign of progress... So far, at least. She wouldn’t count of it lasting long, however, because every time she did, something went awfully wrong, each situation worse than the last. Once again, it was the universe mocking her for daring to dream of one single day where things went alright. Therefore, Charlie would not get her hopes up too much, but would remain carefully optimistic about the situation anyway. She had to, if she wanted to get through this without falling apart. It was important that Charlie remain level-headed, as she and Vaggie were supposed to help the patrons, which meant they had to be strong for them. “Let's pretend that you're in a train station, and two demons are on the tracks—”

“What are they doing there?” Mimzy cut her off.

“Uh, that's not really relevant right now,” Charlie answered, having been caught off-guard by the question. She hadn’t even started talking yet, so she wasn’t expecting there to be questions. Thankfully, this didn’t throw her off balance. “What is relevant is that there is a really big demon next to you. You can choose to push that demon and stop the train, or not intervene and let the two other demons be run over. What do you choose?” It was a good thing that there were multiple versions of the trolley problem that they could explore. If the situation got out of hand, or they deviated from the main subject too much, she could always start a new topic without it getting too repetitive. Besides, discussing the different ways of how moral philosophy worked was always fun… Right?

Baxter raised his hand, and Charlie nodded, indicating he could talk. Everyone had long given up on attempting to explain to him and Niffty how they didn’t need to raise their hands to talk, because they weren’t in a classroom, and, even if they were, no one would bother raising their hands anyway, because they were in hell and nobody cared. “I'd like to say that this isn't logically possible. A single sinner, no matter how big and bulky, would not be able to stop an entire train. It's just not physically feasible.” That was another thing they had almost forgotten: Baxter was one to take everything literally. Everyone knew not to take this situation seriously, but he, an auto-proclaimed sinner of logic and science, would attempt to poke as many holes as possible in every scenario if he was allowed to, and, since this was group therapy, everyone had a voice (which meant he was allowed to). This wasn’t always a good thing, considering most of these ‘voices’ attempted to derail the conversation from its original context to the point where they would end up arguing about muffins instead. It was amusing most of the time.

Charlie froze for a moment, trying to come up with a possible explanation. She knew trying to reason with Baxter was a losing battle, so the next best thing was to play along. “Um, everything that touches this demon stops in time! It's their special power.” It was a good thing that special powers were a thing instead of something she just made up. Besides, trying to expand on this would be fun if given the chance. It would make everything even more realistic, like there were real stakes, _real lives_ on the line.

“Then shouldn't we stop too?” Baxter retorted, and Charlie froze again.

“Well…”

“I'd push them,” Angel cut them both off, leaning against his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit, since being forced to sit on a chair for two hours wasn’t good at all, especially considering how cheap those plastic chairs were. He was getting kind of tired of the scientific talk at this point, and he owed Charlie this at the very least. The poor girl was trying very hard to keep things in order, even though she was failing miserably. And Vaggie also seemed like she was losing hope, slowly but surely. Besides, he was slightly interested in the train problem that was presented. Where did Charlie get all of these weird problems from anyway? And who thought it was a good idea to create them in the first place? Humans were weird, especially when they had nothing better to do to pass the time. He could say that from personal experience as an ex-human. God knows how many weird things he and his twin did when they were bored out of their minds. The thought of him and Molly creating the most unlikely scenarios possible when they were children flashed in his mind (he, with his unparalleled creativity, always won), and he stifled the urge to smile fondly at the memory. Maybe he should talk to her after this...

“Sorry, everyone, Angel's gone,” Crymini, like she always did, taunted. She then closed her eyes and put a fist on her chest, as if to pay respects to someone who recently passed. Angel Dust admired her dedication. “But he died doing what he loved: not listening to us and being a dumbass.” That got a few chuckles out of everyone. Angel himself had to admit it was funny, because it was true. When was the last time he genuinely listened to someone’s advice anyway?

“You'd better come up with a cool tombstone for me, hoe.”

“This is what's going to be written on it,” Crymini decided, and Angel shrugged.

“I'll take it.”

“Okay,” Charlie finally said, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. She wanted to give everyone the freedom to talk and be comfortable, but she also wanted them to pay attention to the main issue at the moment: the trolley problem. “Let's pretend this sinner can only freeze inanimate objects. Living beings cannot be frozen.” She was racking her brain to try and come up with anything that would make any sort of sense for this imaginary scenario. It was proving itself to be a very overwhelming task so far, but hopefully it would be worth it in the long run. Charlie turned to her girlfriend, who had been sitting beside her, just watching all of the mess unfold in a stunned silence, like watching a trainwreck from afar. The two of them briefly exchanged glances, and Vaggie gave her a small smile, something akin to saying ‘this isn’t going as we hoped, but it might get better’. She was really hoping this would be the case. Perhaps, the more details she added to this, the more others would get interested.

“Damn, the people inside the train are fucking dead,” Angel Dust nonchalantly commented. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew how inertia worked. And, in this very moment, inertia said that everyone in that train was very fucked. Angel knew he could be wrong, though. When was the last time he picked up a physics book anyway? He had a vague memory of borrowing one from Asterisk, his co-worker, once. He had been incredibly bored that day, and those books had been his saving grace. Angel never did ask _why_ Asterisk had brought four physics books to work, but he wasn’t really in a place to judge. In fact, he was worse. He had a _pet pig_ in the studio, for god’s sake. Thankfully, no one was in a position to judge him either. Everyone had some sort of object of comfort they brought to the studio when things got too rough. Calliope had a teddy bear that ‘had been given to her by a dear friend’ as she constantly liked to claim. The teddy bear itself looked like it had seen better days. However, once again, Angel was in no place to judge. He would never be.

“Not dead, just severely injured,” Crymini interjected. It seemed like everyone had already forgotten that you couldn’t die in hell, with the exception of being attacked with a holy weapon. Unless those passengers found themselves stumbling into a holy butter knife or whatever, there wouldn’t be a funeral happening anytime soon.

“You say that as if that's better,” Mimzy replied while rolling her eyes. She had never suffered any serious injuries, especially due to her ‘take no shit’ approach to any situation, as well as her special power that allowed her to end any kind of fight if she needed to, but she knew they weren’t pleasant, especially from watching others suffer them. Thankfully for her, being able to put other demons to sleep was incredibly convenient. _Too convenient,_ in fact. It was a shame that Satan decided to nerf her, but she could understand the reason why. The exhaustion that came after having used the power wasn’t as fun, though. That was the reason Mimzy would never use this type of power unless the situation called for it.

Niffty, who had been quiet for a while, finally decided to make her presence known. “I mean, better injured than dead, right?” In her head, it made sense. Niffty had suffered all types of injuries, both as a human and a demon. She had been beaten, burned, run over, stabbed, the list went on. However, thanks to that, she had an incredibly high pain threshold now, so there was that, at least.

“Speak for yourselves,” Husk grumbled, his tail swishing in annoyance. Why couldn’t this whole thing just be over already? It was very clear it was not working. It never did. “Every time I stub my toe I beg for the sweet release of death.” Husk wished he was kidding. However, he was dead serious. As if he would bother telling jokes anyway...

“I just beg for the sweet release of death in general,” Crymini added with a shrug.

Alastor decided to join in. “I bring the sweet release of death in general!”

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, this has gone _way_ beyond the trolley problem and it makes me realize all of you need psychological intervention.” She would always tell a lot of people that they needed a psychologist, and sometimes it would be said in a joking manner, but now she wasn’t kidding. Everyone in that room was extremely troubled, and it showed, especially considering how many of them seemed to think talking about their traumas in the form of humor was a healthy coping mechanism, or a healthy thing in general. This vaguely reminded her of her mother, and how she would do things like that on a daily basis. It was saddening, and also extremely sobering. Vaggie had to constantly remind herself that this wasn’t a normal type of group therapy, and she wasn’t dealing with normal people with a few problems here and there. She was dealing with people who had gone to _hell_ and had been _rotting in there_ for decades. How long would it take them to unlearn their harmful behaviors and come to accept change? It had been months, and so far they hadn’t make much progress. However, they had all learned a few things about each other sporadically, mostly traumatic experiences told in a self-deprecating manner. So far, it seemed like redemption wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

“Isn't that the whole point of group therapy, though?” Mimzy questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Normally, yes, but so far we've spent, like, ten whole minutes talking about trains and how suicidal or homicidal we are,” Angel Dust explained. He wasn’t going to act like that was a bad thing, though. He’d never been to therapy, ever, since no one in hell even bothered entertaining the idea, but he knew how boring they were. Sitting in a white room and talking to a stranger about how fucked up you are was at the bottom of his to-do list at the moment. And, if it had depended on him, it would have stayed there forever. However, fate was a neat little thing that decided it would happen whether he liked or not, so now he was trapped in a white room filled with semi-strangers and talking about how fucked up he was. And, surprisingly enough, it was fun, because everyone around him was equally fucked up, which meant he wasn’t alone in this collective pity party!

“Isn't that what people usually do during therapy?” Niffty asked, tilting her head slightly.

Vaggie felt herself lose a tiny bit of hope every time someone in the room opened their mouths. “Has _anyone_ in this room ever been to any kind of therapy before?” There was silence for a moment, and it was then that Vaggie realized she shouldn’t have been surprised. She herself had only been to therapy once in her life, but it was enough of a wake-up call to get her to try and straighten up her life. It didn’t work that much, though, because she was now in hell, trying to echo the same sentiment to a bunch of sinners who didn’t seem that interested in hearing it, as her advice often went in one ear and out the other. She watched as Angel Dust slowly raised his hand, almost mimicking Baxter, and braced herself. Angel never asked permission to talk. Ever. This was going to be really bad. “What is it?”

“I was almost sent to conversion therapy once. Does that count?”

And the room fell silent once again. Vaggie had predicted this, but, despite bracing herself for it, it did not hurt any less. In fact, remembering that Angel Dust killed himself when he was fourteen-years-old only made this _worse._ To think that he had gone through so much at such a young age made her heart break. How could he just stand there and casually joke about it? Now that she thought about it, when was the last time he had seriously talked to them about a problem he had, _without_ telling a single joke? Her eye scanned the room quickly, trying to read the others’ reactions. It was pretty obvious by the faces they were making that the general mood was a big ‘yikes’. Alastor was the only exception. Vaggie could not read his expression, no matter how hard she tried, but considering how tightly he was gripping the chair (she could see the scratch marks from where she was standing), it was safe to say that he wasn’t very happy to hear that.

“No, and it scares me that you felt the need to ask,” Vaggie finally responded.

“Yup,” Crymini added soon after. Vaggie had never been happier to hear her speak before, because otherwise the mood would have been killed. The hound always had a way of restarting conversations, and, right now, that was their saving grace. “Conversion therapy is usually more conversion and less therapy.” She paused, putting a finger on her chin in contemplation. “I mean, at least I think so. I’ve never been to any kind of conversion therapy before. Or _yet._ Never too late, you know?” And, with that said, Vaggie went from hopeful to empty inside in a matter of seconds. She put a hand on her forehead to try and ease the headache that she knew was coming. It would be for naught, however.

“Why are we still talking about the conversion therapy? We shouldn't be talking about the conversion therapy, and yet here we are, talking about the conversion therapy.”

“Vaggie, dear, are you ok?” Mimzy asked, noticing the other’s growing distress.

“I don't think there's ever been a point in my life where I could respond to that in a positive manner.”

“You know what, guys?” Charlie piped up, putting her clipboard down with a slightly forced smile. “You're dismissed early for today.” There was a brief moment of silence where everyone exchanged glances, wondering if she was serious. “It’s okay, you can go.” And Charlie pointed to the door for emphasis, a small smile on her lips. She was prepared to talk about trolleys, or morality, or choices, but she was not prepared to deal with that kind of conversation yet. Despite studying very hard to understand everything there was to know about the mind and its various conditions, Charlie was not a psychologist. She hoped to get there someday, but this wasn’t happening anytime soon. Because of that, she had come unprepared for what had unfolded during that session. She wouldn’t take it as a failure, however, but as a signal that she needed to study a little more. Soon enough she would be able to help her patrons slowly heal, and maybe put them on the path for redemption.

After two seconds of uncomfortable silence, Crymini was the first one to shrug and get up to leave. The others followed shortly after. No one said anything, and silence reigned, with the exception of the sounds of chairs being dragged around and the shuffling of feet. After the room was empty, save for Charlie and Vaggie, the princess allowed herself to relax a little, closing her eyes letting out a sigh that was long due. “It’s been a long day, huh?” she asked her girlfriend, putting the clipboard on one of the now empty chairs near her. It was a somewhat weird question, since it was only around two in the afternoon. “Do you want to do something else? We’ve got time.” They had plenty of time. This group therapy session had lasted less than half an hour total.

Vaggie thought about saying something else for a minute, but she knew that, at the moment, it wouldn’t do any good. In fact, it would actually be good to have a distraction at the moment, because she had been right about the oncoming headache. “How about a movie? You get to choose this time,” Vaggie said, and she smiled fondly when her girlfriend’s eyes lit up. It would never get old to see Charlie happy like this. It was sweet and pure, and Vaggie’s heart always melted at the sight. In fact, seeing the twinkle in her eyes seemed to make Vaggie fall in love with her all over again.

“Can we watch Snow White again?” Charlie asked, hopeful, and Vaggie didn’t even register that they had already watched that movie three times already. Besides, she could never tell her girlfriend ‘no’.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

**_. . ._ **

Angel Dust should not have gotten himself involved in another turf war.

And yet there he was, in a turf war.

 _How did I let Cherri convince me that this was a good idea?_ Angel asked himself as he gripped his tommy gun tightly in one hand, a grenade in the other. He used his lower set of hands to balance himself on the ground as he hid behind the rubble. An explosion in the background sent more debris flying on his general direction, and Angel reflectively closed his eyes due to the loud sound it produced. The situation was familiar, as he had been in a lot of turf wars before (all thanks to his best friend, Cherri Bomb), but it had been a while since he had actually gotten himself involved in one. Charlie and Vaggie had been very strict about that, and he had found himself unconsciously following their rules after a few months of staying at the hotel. He still hung out with Cherri, of course, but he let go of the general mayhem they partook in together. That was, until today. Cherri Bomb, being the dumbass that she was, went and got herself involved in yet another turf war, and he was the only one available to help. Angel knew he was disappointing Charlie, but he didn’t want his best friend getting hurt. He knew that, either way, he would be hurting one of them. However, the threat of physical harm always came before emotional harm.

Angel Dust watched as Cherri Bomb picked up another one of her homemade bombs (he would never understand how she managed to make those) and aimed it at the horde of sentient eggs that Sir Pentious liked to call his minions. Those things were relentless, and starting to get on Angel’s nerves. He scooted a little bit to the right, knowing she would need to hide from the explosion. After throwing the projectile, Cherri quickly scrambled to hide behind the rubble alongside her best friend. “Thanks for coming to help me, Angel!” she said, grinning for ear to ear, as more explosions happened in the background. The sound of eggshells being cracked in a sickening way was all too familiar for Angel Dust. He allowed his grip on the tommy gun to falter for a second. To a regular demon, it would be impossible to hold a submachine gun with only one hand. Thankfully, his unnatural spider strength allowed him to quadruple wield if needed. One of the many perks of being a spider, he guessed.

Angel opened his mouth to retort, but immediately shut up once he felt his hair being ruffled by the wind alongside the feeling of something grazing his head, followed by a sharp and unrecognizable object landing a few feet before him. No doubt some part of a building that had been destroyed in the chaos. It was not nice to think that, if he weren’t well-hidden by that large piece of debris, the sharp object sitting right in front of him would have been stuck on the back of his head instead. He put the grenade down and punched Cherri in the arm. It wasn’t strong enough to actually hurt, but he did it with enough force to ache for a few seconds. “Don't involve me in your lovers' quarrel with Pentious next time, you bitch.” Had turf wars always been this dangerous? Angel Dust couldn’t remember. However, being a semi-unwilling participant in this pandemonium was making him realize a lot of things, including the fact that he _couldn’t_ let himself get hurt.

Alastor was going to kill him if he found out.

If Vaggie didn’t kill him first, that is.

Cherri’s face of pure disgust at the comment brought Angel Dust much joy. It almost made everything he was going through worth it. Almost. “Fuck off. _Ew._ I'm dying inside just _thinking_ about it!” And then she proceeded to hit him in the arm much like he had done to her, which he supposed was fair.

Angel Dust rolled his eyes as he picked the grenade up from where he had left it. He almost used his teeth to pull the pin, but then remembered that he had tried that once, a few turf wars ago, and it didn’t really go well. As it turned out, grenade pins were really hard to pull, and they only seemed easy because of his unnatural strength. However, the spider strength did not extend to his teeth, which led to one hell of a toothache for a few days. The memory of the pain reminded him that he had an extra set of hands that could help him with this task. Had he forgotten his brain cells at the hotel or what? “That's what you get for dragging me into this mess,” Angel nonchalantly commented as he pulled the pin and threw the grenade over his head, hoping the odds were on his favor. Aiming was for suckers. “I hope tonight you dream of marrying him and having his snake babies. It's what you deserve.”

Cherri smiled gleefully as the ground shook from the explosion, followed by agonized screams and more eggshells landing near them. Angel could only hope none of them got stuck in his hair. “Admit it, Angie, you like spending time with me,” she teased.

“I do, but I also like, you know, not dying.”

“Shut up. You're the one constantly saying you wanna kill yourself,” she reminded, nudging him with her elbow. Angel Dust scoffed as he passed her another grenade, which she merrily took from his hands and tossed at the Egg Bois, or whatever was left of them. Angel didn’t want to move from his safe spot behind the rubble and actually count. It’s not like it would serve any sort of purpose anyway. So far he only had four objectives: not dying, not getting hurt, not getting dirty, and killing as many minions as possible. And, judging by their current situation, he was doing pretty well on all four of these.

“Theatrics, Cherri. Theatrics.”

“Less talking. More shooting.” With that said, she stood up and swifty jumped over the piece of rubble they were hiding behind, two bombs in hand, ready to be tossed. Angel was really curious as to where she was constantly getting these bombs from, but now was not the time to ask that question. They had a job to do. Did he know what the end goal was? No. It was probably to antagonize Pentious as much as possible. Who knew? Surely not him. All he needed to know was that he had to shoot everything that moved, except for Cherri Bomb, because that wouldn’t be good. Angel Dust debated on whether or not to move from his spot, because he _really_ didn’t want to, but in the end he did it anyway. Pulling the tommy gun up, he began to shoot, not caring enough to aim. It was only then that he realized how _chaotic_ everything was around him. A few sinners were still running away, trying to avoid ending up in the middle of the turf war if possible, and a few buildings had been destroyed. The smoke from the bombs was still up, and Angel had to momentarily close his eyes to prevent them from getting watery. It was unfortunate that he couldn’t do the same thing to his lungs without passing out. Thankfully, he was well-acquainted with smoke (he had cigarettes to thank for that), so it didn’t bother him that much. The deafening sound of the gunfire made his ears ring in an uncomfortable manner. All in all, this was a less than pleasant experience. The thrill just wasn’t there that day, and he didn’t really know why.

Sir Pentious, who had been standing in the middle of his minions while holding his newest thingamajig, shook his fist in the air like an angry old man watching a bunch of teenagers waltz through his lawn. “I will blow you both up into little pieces and use said pieces to decorate my living room like hunting trophies!” he bellowed. Angel Dust found his attempt at being menacing incredibly pathetic. He had seen this man try very hard to be ‘cool and hip’ before, so all of his efforts to be seen as a feared overlord ended up coming across as pitiful cries for attention from a very lonely man. Maybe he should find a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a friend in general.

“Jeez, what did you do? Insult his dick size or something?” Angel asked as he continued shooting the eggs. How many of them were there anyway? It seemed like he had been doing this for ages, but it was leading them nowhere.

Cherri Bomb chuckled. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

“Yes, I would. That's why I fucking asked.”

“Okay, so _maybe_ I insulted his hat,” she admitted, wiping off some yolk that had gotten in her face. It was pretty gross when it first happened to both of them, but now they were used to it. Being covered in blood by the end of a turf war wasn’t unusual. However, it was the very thing Angel was trying to avoid at the moment. He _couldn’t_ get dirty, or else the others would know he had been up to something. Even if he took a shower at Cherri’s apartment afterwards to clean the yolk and blood and dust off, his clothes would still be dirty. He was truly fucked if that happened. “Big deal.”

“I mean, yeah! Dude loves that hat more than he loves himself.” Angel Dust knew very little about Pentious, but he had spent enough time with him (most of that time being in between turf wars) to know that he had a big ego, and most of it showed through his clothes. Sir Pentious liked to look presentable to every occasion, even if that occasion was to blow some teenage hooligans’ brains off. Therefore, Cherri Bomb insulting his hat had been a cardinal sin in his eyes. It was enough to start a war between them. One that Angel had begrudgingly gotten himself involved in. Cherri Bomb owed him big time.

Speaking of which, she gasped in faux surprise. “Wow, I didn't even think that was possible!” That sure got a chuckle out of him.

“I can hear you two!” Sir Pentious cried out, his frustration growing by the minute.

“Yeah, we know!” Angel replied, ceasing fire for a second. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be talking!” Cherri Bomb wheezed, slapping her knee. Antagonizing Pentious was one of the most amusing things that anyone could do. It was fun to watch his face contort in anger as his hood flared up, probably in an attempt to make himself look bigger and more intimidating than he actually was. Unfortunately for him, Angel Dust had already seen that trick, and while it did surprise him the first time, the fear had long worn off. Now it only made him look like a toddler throwing a tantrum, which was usually how he came across, especially with his long monologues about how he was going to take over hell and stuff.

He watched for a moment as Pentious didn’t respond. That was slightly concerning. Instead, he was messing around with what seemed to be his newest invention. He and Cherri Bomb exchanged confused glances. It would be interesting to see what he had built this time around. The possibilities were endless when it came to this guy. There was a moment of pure silence between them. No bombs, no grenades, no gunfire, nothing. Even the Egg Bois had stopped attacking to focus on their boss. Angel was willing to give Sir Pentious a chance to make this dogfight entertaining. One second, two seconds, three seconds passed, and nothing. Finally, Angel heard the familiar sound of something ticking, much like Alastor’s grandfather clock. What was Pentious planning? There was more silence as the snake demon adjusted the ‘clock’ that was attached to his wrist while grinning like a madman. “Aha!” he exclaimed. “At last, I have done it! I have created something that will, well, blow you away! Literally! Just wait until I adjust this little—”

_BOOM._

Angel Dust jumped as soon as he saw the explosion, as well as the deafening sound that followed. There was brief moment of pure silence afterwards. When the dust finally cleared a few seconds later, they watched as Sir Pentious fell to the ground, covered in soot and ash and looking absolutely defeated. It took Angel a few moments to realize what had happened. Pentious’s new device had _exploded on his face._ That was something that had yet to happen, and it was absolutely magnificent. He and Cherri Bomb stood there for a moment, not moving an inch, just admiring the view. They snapped out of it when they heard the remaining Egg Bois call out for Pentious, rushing towards him in concern (not like they would be much help anyway). Their boss, however, simply stood there with his eyes wide open and a thousand-yard stare, as if frozen in time. He knew he had lost this battle. There was no recovering from that. Cherri smirked, victoriously throwing one of her bombs in the air. “Oh, that blew us away, alright,” she snarkily commented. Angel chuckled.

“Stop kicking the guy, Cherri. He’s already down.” For now, he would give the Pentious the small mercy of not completely obliterating him with words. In any other circumstance he _would_ have done that, but at the moment he was completely drained of having been doing this for half an hour. “Well, if we’re done, I’m going back to the hotel. Vaggie’s gonna kill me if she finds out I was here.”

“Oh? Better watch out then, lovebug.” Cherri nudged his arm with a smirk. “Go on. I’ll deal with the old man.” Angel nodded, handing her the tommy gun, as he knew he couldn’t just bring that back to the hotel, and she had enough space in her apartment for storing a gun. Without saying anything else, spun on his heels and began to walk towards the main street. It would be quite a walk from the Wrath Circle to where the hotel was, but he had some time. All he needed to do was not mess up the lie spectacularly, and it would be like he was never involved in the fight at all. He had miraculously managed not to get dirty during the turf war, with the exception of some dirt on his suit. Thankfully he could simply brush it off before anyone saw. Besides, the walk would be good for him. His ears were still ringing a bit from the constant explosions he was forced to hear, and his lungs hadn’t escaped the rough treatment either. Hopefully he didn’t smell, or else they would either think he had been in a turf war (which would have been the correct guess) or that he had been smoking (which would have been the other correct guess, but that didn’t really matter at the moment). He just hoped that things would go as planned, or he would be in a world of trouble. Facing Charlie’s stare of disappointment was perhaps one of the worst punishments he had to endure during his stay. He just couldn’t face those cute puppy eyes of hers.

“Oof.”

Angel stopped when he felt a body collide aginst his, followed by the sound of someone falling to the floor. He stopped in surprise. Very few people took the route that he was walking through, and, with the turf war that had been going on less than a minute ago, the chances of finding someone else there was zero. However, it seemed like he was wrong, because he had obviously just bumped into someone. It had been quite a while since someone bumped into him. He was tall and bright enough that everyone else easily dodged him whenever they saw him coming. He looked down, hoping to scold the sinner and tell them to watch where they were going, despite it being equally his fault for not paying attention, but his heart skipped a beat as soon as his eyes landed on a pair of fluffy deer ears. Angel Dust blinked, and, when the initial confusion wore off, he forced himself to take a good look at the demon in front of him. 

There, on the floor, lied a woman about as tall as Charlie, who was locking eyes with him, as if he would jump on her throat her if she dared to blink. She was pale as a ghost. Literally. The colors seemed to match her wild, untamed curly hair that was sprawled all over the floor. He could see her honey-colored eyes filled with fear and apprehension as one hand clutched her yellow sweater tightly, the other haphazardly tapping the floor in search of something. Angel noticed that, a few feet away from her, lied a white bomber hat that she undoubtedly had been wearing before he knocked her down. The poor woman was shaking like a newborn fawn. Angel Dust stood there for a few seconds, dazed, the gears slowly turning in his head amidst the constant ringing. That was when realization hit him. _Hard._ Neither of them spoke for a moment. Angel Dust swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to talk. After two seconds of trying to find the rights words, he finally found his voice.

“Margot?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sips tea in the corner)
> 
> Now the plot is starting to pick up, my friends~ I hope you're ready for a wild ride >:3 And let me tell you, I always have a lot of fun writing the dialogue for the group therapy. These shit gremlins always do whatever they want and I'm just watching from the sidelines dfgfdg but you can also tell the have some shit they let out in form of jokes, either accidentally or not. That may or may not be me projecting :v who knows really? Anyway! I'll see you guys at chapter ten.
> 
> Today's chapter is named "Aggrieve", from the Homestuck soundtrack. Yes, a lot of these titles will be named after Homestuck songs. You better brace yourselves gfgfdg.
> 
> EDIT: Been having some trouble posting gffdgdfg I have bad luck.


	10. Unite synchronization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel Dust has lots of questions, and so does Margot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM ALIVE Y'ALL.
> 
> God this took so long ffgfgfdgdf. Sorry for taking, like, a whole month to update, but I've been having a lot of fatigue lately and I'm not sure why. I just wanna sleep all the time. So that's what I do lol. Anyway, I bring y'all a brand new chapter today! This was gonna be way longer but I'm merciful so I decided to split this big chapter into two chapters. Besides, that makes things all the more dramatic, hm? Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: N/A

_ “Margot?” _

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Angel Dust could hear nothing but the sound of his own breathing as his mind raced with a million thoughts. He missed ten seconds ago when the biggest problem he had to think about was whether he would manage to lie to Charlie about the turf war or not. And, out of all unexpected events that managed to develop in his life, this was one of the most surprising ones, just behind the results of the multiple paternity tests he took with Alastor. However, this was surely no reason to panic. Everything would be okay, because Angel was sure this had to be a misunderstanding. There were probably a few deer demons in hell. It wasn’t like Alastor and his family had a monopoly over the species. He was entirely convinced that the woman before him would either laugh or scoff before asking what he was talking about. It was only logical. Angel Dust had heard about Margot a lot from his father, and, from what he had been told, she was a sweet woman who had never done anything wrong in her entire life. What could she possibly have done that would have landed her in hell anyway? Accidentally causing an explosion of Jambalaya wasn’t a sin. It was only natural that the real Margot would be in heaven alongside his adoptive mother, Florence Ragno. Angel waited for the woman’s protests over being called the wrong name, and also for not watching where he was going...

But nothing came.

Instead, the woman’s breath hitched, her deer ears suddenly going flat against her head. Her hand had stopped tapping the floor in search of the hat, and she froze, literally looking like a deer in the headlights. That was the exact moment Angel Dust realized that he had been right. Usually that would be a cause for celebration, because he loved being right, but right now it was like a punch to the gut. His grandmother, Margot, wasn’t in heaven like they all had imagined. No, she had ended up in hell instead. How did that even happen? And why? What could she possibly have done to end in there? And… Angel felt his heart stopped when his mind went to someone else that would also have to be involved in this fiasco: his father. What would he tell Alastor? What would he think? There was no way he would be okay with this. If he was sure of one thing in life, it was that Alastor loved his mother. Angel Dust had one teased his father for being a momma’s boy, right before receiving a ‘reverse Uno card’ situation as he was reminded that he, too, was a momma’s boy. How would he feel if he found out Florence was in hell? That was when a new thought hit him: who said she wasn’t? This whole situation was making him dizzy, and Angel realized it was because he was starting to hyperventilate. He needed to calm down. It wouldn’t be productive to have a panic attack right now.

After staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, Margot blinked, realizing she would have to be the one to make a move between the two of them. “You…” she started, before trailing off. She had no idea what to say, really. Well, there was something she needed to address. “You know my name.” This snapped Angel Dust out of his trance as he looked at his grandmother, making eye contact. That sentence was it. It was the confirmation Angel needed to drag him back to reality and make him realize that _yes,_ this was actually happening. Margot was right in front of him, in flesh and blood. That was her actual name. What were the chances of a deer demon completely unrelated to Alastor being named Margot? Very low, Angel presumed. _“You_ _know my name,”_ Margot repeated, louder this time, snapping Angel out of his trance for the second time that day.

Looking into Margot’s eyes, he realized that she wanted him to say something—  _ anything.  _ The atmosphere was already awkward as it was, but the silence following her question made it worse. It was unsettling. Angel Dust took a second to think about this. What should he even say in a situation like this? For a brief moment, he considered telling her everything there and then. However, there were two problems with this. The first one was the believability of his story. Would she take his word for it or simply write him off as a lunatic? Angel already knew the answer to that. However, he had worse issues at the moment, and that was where the second problem came in. They were  _ in public. _ Sure, the street they were in was empty, but it never hurt to be careful. He had already slipped up by saying his grandmother’s name out loud (especially when it was clear she had been purposefully keeping it a secret), so there was no need to spill even more secrets for the entire underworld to hear. No, he would have to save this… for now. This brought him back to the original problem: the silence. Angel hated to admit that his mind had gone blank. It was like he had forgotten how to talk. What had she said again? Ah, yes, the name. He knew her name. Yes, that was it. He could deal with that. All he needed to do was  _ talk. _

“Yeah.”

...Well, that was progress, at least.

It was Margot’s turn to fall silent, and suddenly Angel Dust understood why she wanted him to reply so badly. The situation was growing increasingly awkward between them. Angel had almost forgotten that he was supposed to be having an inner crisis over the fact that his grandmother was actually in hell, but that time had long passed. No, now it was time for an intense game of eye contact. Neither of them dared look away, or even blink. Angel Dust was afraid that Margot would disappear if he so much as blinked, and Margot was afraid that Angel would attack her if she got distracted. In hell, trust was something nonexistent. However, she found herself in a conundrum. If someone passed by and saw her deer ears, it would be over for her. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to them. After what seemed like an eternity, she was the first one to look away, deciding to put some trust into the spider demon she had just met. After this was done, she scanned the area in search of something in particular. Her deer ears perked up as her gaze landed on her bomber hat, the one that was knocked off her head when she fell to the floor.

Angel Dust watched the situation in front of him curiously. He had been expecting her to reach out for it like a regular sinner, but that was not what happened. No, that would have been too simple. Instead, Margot’s eyes began to glow in a bright blue color, and as soon as it did Angel was absolutely positive that the temperature around him dropped.  _ Alright, that’s not normal, _ he concluded. What the fuck was going on? He took his eyes off of Margot to focus on the bomber hat, and noticed a small aura surrounding it; blue, like the color of Margot’s eyes. If that wasn’t strange enough, suddenly the hat was moving on its own towards her, as if she were a magnet. It was slow, but it was definitely moving. After five torturous seconds of watching a goddamn hat drag itself towards his grandmother, Angel allowed himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Was he having some sort of fever dream? Yeah, he definitely was. That had to be it, because there was no way  _ all of this _ was happening at the same time.

Once Angel finally opened his eyes, he expected everything in front of him to disappear. Margot, the hat,  _ everything. _ A part of him didn’t want it to, because he wanted— no,  _ needed _ to talk to her. Another part of him was secretly hoping he had hallucinated all of this, because he wanted to believe Margot was in heaven, being rewarded for never having done anything wrong in her entire life. An extra third part of him just wanted to drink some vodka, because he was definitely too sober to deal with this. As everything came back into view, Angel realized that, unsurprisingly, this was actually happening. Margot was still there, and so was the hat, now sitting on her head and perfectly covering her deer ears. To a bystander, she looked just like a regular sinner, and it hit Angel that this was her end goal: to hide her deer ears. He suddenly understood why she had been so shook about all of this, and why she had been desperately tapping the floor in search of her hat while not taking her eyes off him. What he did not understand was why she didn’t use her freaky psychic powers on the hat in the first place. That would have saved her so much time. But then again, who was he to judge what one did with the unnatural psychic powers they had?

As soon as the hat ordeal had been solved, Angel Dust realized he was not entirely thrilled at the prospect of experiencing another ten seconds of awkwardness before either of them made a move. He had to be the one to take initiative. He didn’t want to stall either, because he had questions, and he desperately needed answers to them. “Look,” he started, not entirely sure where to go with this. He was just saying whatever came to mind at that moment. “I can explain.” Angel Dust knew how cliché he sounded at that moment. He didn’t even know  _ how  _ he would begin explaining this to Margot. He was just hoping to find the right words along the way, because he was a dumbass and never planned ahead. Margot looked entirely unconvinced, and Angel was really hoping she wouldn’t complete the cliché cake by saying she didn’t want to hear it and storming off. He  _ could,  _ technically speaking, kidnap her before she left, but he didn’t want to have to explain to his father and the other bystanders what he was doing. Besides, kidnapping your grandmother isn’t a good first impression... Well, at least from where he was from.

Thankfully, Margot didn’t move from her spot. She simply raised an eyebrow. “Can you really?” Angel considered this question for a second. There was no turning back now. Without saying a word more, he nodded. There was a moment of silence between them before Margot continued, sounding a little confused, “I am waiting.” That’s when Angel Dust realized she must have misunderstood his intentions. There was no way he was infodumping his entire life  _ and  _ afterlife to her in the open like this. For someone who was so concerned about the secrecy of her deer ears, Margot was very careless.

“I dunno if you noticed, but this ain't the best place for a pep talk, lady,” Angel Dust explained, finally letting some of his personality shine. He was afraid of going all out and scaring her away. Some nicer clients liked to describe him as ‘intense’, which was a code-word for ‘this guy is batshit insane sometimes and it scares and arouses me at the same time’. It was one of his many qualities. “I mean, unless you want some rando to hear us or whatever.” It was time to start considering how to sneak Margot into the Happy Hotel without anyone noticing. He could lift the two of them up with a silk thread, but making these were gross and he wasn’t keen on more physical exercise. He  _ could  _ talk to Charlie and pretend Margot was an interested client, but he was sure his grandmother was living somewhere else and he didn’t want to give poor Charlie hope. They could go to a bar or a café or something, but there was always the risk of someone eavesdropping. Angel wanted to smack himself. He should have planned this in advance.

Thankfully, it seemed like Margot was smarter than him. “That’s a fair point,” she agreed, standing up and dusting herself off. As she did that, Angel Dust noticed how her sweater was a tad oversized, as she had to roll the sweater’s sleeves up. It confused him for a moment, because surely there were sweaters made for someone her size, until he realized there was a small bump on the back where the sweater and skirt met. Her  _ tail. _ She had bought a bigger sweater to cover her deer tail, along with the hat for her ears. That was a smart move. It did indeed seem like Margot had far more brain cells than he would ever strive to have. “Follow me.” She then spun on her heels and began to move without even waiting for him. Despite her command leaving no room for discussion, her voice was soft and kind, like a grandma’s voice should be. After finally processing the situation, Angel made his way towards her. It wasn’t hard to catch up as their size difference was considerable, and his legs were way longer than hers.

It only took one turn for them to return to civilization. Angel Dust didn’t know if the sight of other demons eased or heightened his current anxiety. Thankfully, nobody seemed to care about him for the time being. Normally this would be quite insulting, but right now it was a godsend. The type of attention he usually received wouldn’t be considered, well,  _ positive, _ to say the least. It sometimes varied from catcalling to borderline sexual harassment. Angel could easily deal with those, and if he was in a bad enough mood the harassers usually ended with a broken hand or two. However, right now would be a bad time. He wasn’t yet sure if it was because he didn’t want his grandmother to witness what he usually dealt with, or if it was because the two of them being seen together would arouse suspicion and they didn’t have a cover or an excuse (besides probably pretending she was a coworker, which was a bad idea). Fortunately, it seemed like his prayers were answered, because he hadn’t been catcalled so far. Perhaps part of this could be attributed to the large crowd around them, which made keeping track of Margot somewhat difficult (she was very nimble), but it didn’t make much sense considering he was taller than ninety-percent of all sinners. Maybe he was just having a really good day. Hopefully it would stay that way.

After they turned yet another corner which led them to a less populated street, Angel Dust took the chance to ask something that he should have asked a long time ago. “Where are we going?”

Margot slowed her pace as she considered the question. However, it seemed like she was taken aback by it, and combining that with her anxiety over having a stranger who  _ knew her human name _ following her produced less than stellar results. “Uh... I'm not going to murder you, if that's what you're thinking.”

That was a terrible answer, but for some reason Angel Dust felt a little bit better after hearing it. He noticed how Margot became a little more panicked after that, and he could relate to her on a spiritual level when it came to the ‘whoops, that was not what I should have said’ department. Besides, he knew she wouldn’t kill him. She didn’t have that type of aura, the one that said ‘don’t fuck with me’. And, even if she did want to stab his neck and watch him bleed to death, she wouldn’t have a chance. Angel Dust was very talented when it came to almost-dying-but-not-really. He’d had a ton of close calls and none of them led anywhere. He loved to boast about that, much to his twin’s dismay. Well, Molly could complain all she wanted, but nothing would make him stop talking about that one time someone tried to stab him with a holy dagger. That story was very funny to him and his co-workers. It was a shame Molly and Alastor seemed to think otherwise.

Wait, where was he again? Oh, yes, Margot’s poorly thought out answer. Yeah,  _ that. _ “I wasn’t, but now I kinda am,” he replied. It was sort of a joke, but it  _ did _ actually make him think, therefore downgrading it from a joke to a friendly jab.

Margot didn’t seem to find it so funny, though, and, by the looks of it, she appeared to be growing more exasperated by the minute. “I said I’m not going to!”

Angel Dust was thoroughly amused by their exchange, but he also felt some pity for this poor woman who had no idea who he was, all while being mercilessly taunted by him. Hopefully he didn’t leave such a bad first impression that it would ruin their relationship in the long run. “It's called reverse psychology,” he responded nonchalantly. This had been something his father had taught him. Alastor himself never used this or any other method to kill anyone (Kenneth Lawrence notwithstanding), as he preferred having his victims come to him instead. Still, Alastor thought it would be good for him to know in case he needed to, who knows, go apeshit or something. Besides, it was good advice. Luring victims into a false sense of security seemed to be the best way to kill them without a hassle. Angel Dust would have to keep that in mind for his next murder spree, which would probably be never. He was too lazy to do anything like that. He would leave the murder and cannibalism to Alastor, but he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to tagging along either.

After that, Margot fell silent. Angel couldn’t blame her. Instead of continuing to talk like he usually would in these situations, he simply focused on walking. While doing so, he decided to take notice of other things around him to preserve his sanity for the time being. The weather wasn’t particularly hot that day. The street was mostly busy, but thankfully the demons weren’t clawing each other’s eyes out (that happened a lot and it wasn’t an unusual sight). There was a couple making out while taking their clothes off in plain sight. All in all, things seemed normal. Angel Dust decided to look around and see if he recognized any of the buildings around him, but everything seemed brand new. He’d never been around those parts before. Was he still in the Wrath Circle? Hell if he knew at this point. Not like it mattered anyway. Still, he made a note to mentally memorize the path they’d gone through so he could go back to the hotel without having to rely on luck  _ or  _ street signs, because some teenage hooligans liked to vandalize them so much that they had become unreadable. At first it was funny, because he was a teenage hooligan once, but one day he got lost in the Greed Circle after finishing a job and suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore. Everyone in hell knew not to trust the street signs.

After what seemed like an eternity of having to keep his thoughts to himself while in the presence of another person, Angel decided to finally make his presence known for the third time. “Are we there yet? My feet are killing me.” That was a lie, but he needed to say  _ something. _ Besides, he was itching to talk to Margot, and felt like he could barely wait. His relationship to his adoptive grandparents was basically nonexistent, both on Earth and in hell, so the thought of actually  _ having _ a grandparent to talk to was anxiety-inducing. He didn’t want to blow this. He couldn’t.

“We've only been walking for five minutes and your legs are twice as long as mine,” Margot pointed out matter-of-factly as Angel closed the distance between them, which meant they were now walking side-by-side. There weren’t that many people around anymore, so he found it safe to do so. Well, it seemed like Margot wasn’t that interested in his pep-talk or his jokes. Understandable. If some random guy who knew his human name tried to tell him a bunch of crappy jokes he’d probably punch him in the dick and steal his wallet. In comparison, his grandmother was being a saint, just like Alastor said she was. It really made him wonder what exactly she did to end up landing in hell, the place where murderers and rapists were sent to. Did she steal a wallet once? Or maybe said ‘fuck’ in a moment of rage? Were these damnable offenses? He wouldn’t know. With the clear exception of Florence, he’d never been around a good adult influence in his fourteen years of life.

Angel Dust could’ve stopped talking at that point. But that wasn’t something he would really do, now would it? “Do you know how hard it is to walk with high heels?” The only thing he could do now was pray that they were getting near wherever his grandmother was taking him, because he was kind of running out of things to say. Hopefully he wasn’t about to be taken to a dark alley, robbed, then stabbed three times in the chest. That wasn’t an experience he was eager to repeat.

Margot chuckled dryly. “If it's so bad then why do you still wear them?”

“Pain keeps me from dissociating,” Angel responded nonchalantly as he shrugged.

There was a brief moment of silence between them before she finally spoke up again, pulling at her hat (he wondered if that was a nervous tic). “I know I say this to almost everyone at this point, but I am very concerned for your mental health.” How many times would he have to hear that again? Margot and Vaggie would have a field day if they ever met.

“Heh, I get that a lot.”

And, with that said, they fell silent once again. The various conversations from the passersby was the only sound that could be heard for miles, with the exception of their own footsteps. God, that was boring. Angel Dust was preparing to annoy Margot some more while hoping she wouldn’t eventually give up on him, but stopped himself as soon as he noticed her slowing down. He followed suit and then followed her gaze, which landed on a building right up ahead. Looking closer, Angel noticed how the building was in decent condition compared to most buildings around the area. He could see a few broken windows (which seemed to be the standard for every place ever considering everyone in hell seemed to have anger issues) and the ugly yellowish-green color they chose for the paint job, but other than that it was better than seventy-percent of all buildings he had seen in his afterlife. Was that where Margot lived?

Angel’s suspicions were confirmed when she carelessly made her way inside. He followed her closely, looking around. The ground floor was actually decorated instead of just having a reception desk, although nothing actually matched. The multicolored neon carpet made it seem like someone had vomited skittles all over the floor. There were three different types of chandeliers attached to the ceiling, all of which were too close to each other. The wallpaper was bland and uninteresting; who used diagonal stripes these days? Besides, Angel Dust could feel as if the clown paintings on the walls were staring directly into his soul, which was deeply unsettling. It was like the interior designer had completely given up on their job. Either that or they had been severely underpaid, which caused them to half-ass their job as much as they possibly could. Angel understood, because he’d done the same thing before. He was desperately hoping that was it, and not that some poor soul with a job like this had a terrible sense of style. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. He wasn’t here to judge Margot’s apartment building, but to get some answers.

While Angel Dust was distracted looking around and slowly dying inside, Margot swiftly made her way to the reception desk. She smiled politely to the receptionist, a large white wolf who was leaning dangerously on his chair while browsing through his phone absentmindedly, resting his feet on the desk. “Hi, Becc,” she greeted. It appeared that this wasn’t an unusual sight for her. Come to think of it, very few receptionists were professional enough not to do something on the counter, it seemed. Angel knew this very well, considering their resident alcoholic was  _ also  _ their receptionist. It wasn’t like the hotel was swarming with guests, so sometimes it was hard to remember Husk actually had a job.

Becc looked up from his phone for half a second, his green eyes narrowing for a brief moment in recognition before he went back to doing what he was doing. “So you’re back already, huh? Got mugged or something?” Becc teased, a small smirk making its way to his lips. Angel Dust finally made his way to where Margot was standing, but the two of them barely acknowledged his presence.

His grandmother chuckled, more out of politeness than anything else. “Very funny.” It wasn’t. Angel had heard this type of comment from his coworker a million times whenever he returned earlier to the studio. It was genuinely rage-inducing. “No, something just came up. I’m bringing my… Uh…” she trailed off, alternating between giving Becc an apologetic look and Angel a panicked stare. It was clear that she came unprepared. What the hell had she been thinking about during their whole trip to this apartment? “My friend.” Well, that was bound to backfire on their faces, but it seemed like it was the best she could come up with. Angel wasn’t going to blame her for that. It’s not like he could’ve done any better anyway.

As expected, Becc took it the wrong way. giving her a mischievous glance. “Yeah, sure, your ‘friend’,” he repeated, using air quotes. He had known Margot for years at this point, and if there was one thing she was known for, it was being an introverted hermit. It was hard to believe she had actually brought someone to her apartment this time.

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, crossing both pairs of arms. He could tolerate a lot of things, but not this. “I’m gay, buddy.” And, with that said, he winked. Becc seemed completely unaffected by this. That was usually one of the three reactions he got whenever he flirted. People were either interested, disinterested, or extremely enraged. The latter was the funniest of all three reactions. It was a shame he didn’t see it more often. Who knew there were so many macho alpha males afraid of ‘the gays’ in hell? What a surprise.

Becc didn’t react at all. Did this man even have emotions? “Ten dollars are still ten dollars, though,” he commented, smirk still in place, and Angel suddenly felt a spiritual connection to this receptionist he didn’t even know.

“I like you.”

Margot shot Angel Dust a glare of disbelief. Her eyes met with his, and the two of them shared an awkward two seconds of silence. Becc also gave the two of them a brief glance before he waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, you’re free to go or whatever,” he commented nonchalantly, going back to whatever he was doing on his phone. “Just don’t make too much noise. That bastard rat Keith that lives on the third floor’s been bringing a bunch of whores around and the other residents are starting to complain about the moaning.” The scowl on Becc’s face was a clear message that he was tired of this bullshit and clearly contemplating mauling the demon he was talking about. Angel was slightly interested in the potential gossip that was brewing there, but Becc’s teeth were rather sharp and he didn’t seem like he was in a good mood. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand that he needed to address. Additionally, he was getting rather tired of having to explain that he  _ wasn’t _ going to sleep with Margot. The thought made him want to dive into a pool of bleach.

“We’re not—”

Margot cut him off. “No noises. Got it.” She turned to him, eyes narrowed. There was not an ounce of patience left in her body, it seemed. “Let’s go. Now.” There was a heavy emphasis on the word ‘now’ that indicated she shouldn’t be contradicted. Angel didn’t say a thing. He just nodded and the two of them headed towards the elevator. Thankfully, this one looked safe. Much safer than some of the elevators he’d been forced to use whenever he’d had a job at a john’s apartment. Once they walked inside, he watched Margot press the button to the fifth floor and quietly step back, staring down as if her shoes were the most interesting thing ever. After that, the two of them fell silent as the elevator slowly went up. This gave Angel Dust some time to think about his current situation. He’d previously mocked Margot for not having thought about what to say to the receptionist, but that made him a hypocrite, because he also had no idea of what he wanted to tell her. Should he be direct or more subtle? Would it do him any good to dump all of this on her all of a sudden? Would she even believe him? Angel had no proof of his claims. There was no way to prove it unless he brought Alastor himself to confirm this, and he really didn’t want to do that right now. Before he could try and come up with something else, he heard a loud ‘ding’, indicating they had reached the fifth floor. Angel watched the doors open, still thinking about his predicament. It was only when Margot stepped out that he realized he had to do that too.

Angel Dust analyzed his surroundings as soon as he hopped off the elevator. The cold, empty hallways were familiar. It seemed like every apartment’s corridors were the same no matter what. There was no decoration whatsoever, which, to be fair, was a huge improvement from the absolute disaster that was the ground floor. Margot paused for a second before she made her way to the right side of the hallway, which had four doors at the end, two on each side. Margot patted her skirt, and Angel watched, surprised, as she picked up a small set of keys from the hidden pocket on her skirt. He hadn’t even noticed that. The oversized sweater hid a sizable portion of her skirt, also concealing the pocket. It was smart.  _ Margot _ was smart. She picked a golden-colored key and used it to unlock the door. Angel held his breath for a moment. He was suddenly panicking a little, because he still had no idea what he was going to do. Going with the flow would surely backfire, but, at this point in time, it was his only option.

“Uh, are you coming?” Margot asked, confused, snapping Angel Dust out of his trance and making him realize that the door was already open and his grandmother was already inside, her hand grasping the doorknob a little too firmly. Her apprehension was clear. It wasn’t every day that one invited a complete stranger to hang out at their apartment, which was actually an incredibly dumb idea in hindsight. Who was he to judge Margot’s choices, though? It wasn’t like he was going to steal from her (well, she didn’t know that, but still). Besides, what would  _ he  _ have done if he were in her shoes? Angel knew he was in no position to judge. He could only be glad that she was actually giving him the time of the day instead of simply bolting like anyone else would do. Tracking her down again would be a nightmare and a half.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” he replied nonchalantly, walking in. Margot shut the door behind him.

There was a sense of familiarity about her living room that Angel Dust couldn’t pinpoint for a second before it hit him.  _ Pink. _ The whole place was pink, just like his own apartment before he moved into the hotel (and even his own hotel room had a dash of pink here and there). If there were two words that could describe the place, it would be pink and soft. Everything looked cozy, and, in a world where most demons tried to make their living spaces as edgy as possible, this was eye candy. He did take notice of how everything was the same shade of pastel pink, but hey, at least the fluffy pink carpet was way better than the one at the reception. All in all, the room wasn’t that bad. In fact, it was way better than many rooms he had seen in his afterlife (and, considering what his job was, he had seen a lot of them). It did make him wonder what kind of job Margot had to be able to pay for all of this… Angel Dust stood there for a moment, looking around, because he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do. Normally he would just do whatever and sit on the couch with his legs spread open like a disrespectful bastard, because that’s what he wanted others to see him as. Margot, however, was different. She was his grandmother, he was sure of it by now, and he didn’t want to give her a bad impression. Besides, he was already on thin ice as it was. What if Margot’s patience ran out and she straight up kicked him out? He couldn’t let that happen.

“You can sit at that table if you want,” Margot instructed, noticing Angel’s hesitance, as she pointed at a small circular table with two chairs in the middle of the living room.

“‘K,” Angel replied, making his way to the table at the same time that Margot made her way to the kitchen, probably to get something to drink. He wasn’t going to complain about that. It gave him some time to think of what to say. However, no matter how much he tried to think, no explanation was satisfactory enough. In the end, he decided to focus on the table instead. It was made of wood and looked slightly worn out, nothing special, but the decorations on top made up for it. The tablecloth was, of course, pastel pink, and looked soft to the touch despite his gloves preventing him from confirming this theory. Unfortunately, there was nothing but a thin vase made of glass filled with pink flowers on top. He’d never really been an expert on flowers and barely knew any besides than roses and dandelions, but, for some reason, Angel couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had seen those flowers before. He continued to stare at them for a moment, trying to come up with a reason as to why they were so familiar, until he was blessed with a vague memory from the depths of his mind. It’d been nighttime, and he’d been sitting in bed, unable to fall asleep, looking up random things on Voogle. Somehow this led him to voogling up a specific type of flower. The exact flower that was currently in front of him. Angel Dust wasn’t exactly sure why he’d been doing that, though, so he tried to focus some more, and then the answer finally hit him like a truck without brakes.

_ Pandora Larkspur. _

Those were  _ larkspurs. _

Angel Dust felt the air leave his lungs as realization slowly settled in. Alastor had talked about how larkspurs were his mother’s favorite type of flower, which was why he’d been originally named after them. That’s what he’d been researching that night. Pandora Larkspur wasn’t a name he had any previous emotional connection to, so he didn't really see the problem in doing some research, especially since he’d never heard of a larkspur before. He’d been slightly sleep-deprived and thought that the combination of Pandora’s box and some random flower was hilarious. Now, however, he didn’t really know what to feel. Everything suddenly felt more real and he  _ still _ had no idea of what to say. Angel Dust had been so entranced by the flowers that he didn’t register Margot’s presence until she put a tray with two cups of coffee down. He looked up, startled, but thankfully Margot didn’t notice as she was already moving to sit at the chair opposite of his. Angel stared at the cups of coffee for a moment. He wasn’t particularly fond of caffeine, but would drink it during certain days whenever his work was particularly demanding, and it did the job of keeping him awake (besides, it was a low-calorie drink). He still picked a cup for himself, because that way he would at least have something else to stare at other than his grandmother and the flowers. Margot picked the remaining cup and took a sip. Angel decided to do the same, wincing at the heat and bitterness. God, it was so hot. How could she just drink that without hesitating?

“So…” Margot started as she put her cup of coffee down as gently as possible. Angel Dust looked up, making direct eye contact. He knew what was coming, and yet he still wasn’t prepared at all. “I think it’s time to start explaining yourself, mister.”

Angel Dust chuckled. “Wow, straight to the point, aren't ya?”

Margot lowered her gaze to the cup for a moment, tracing the rim with her index finger, a small smile on her lips. “As much as I'd love to just sit here and talk to a complete stranger about love and life or whatever, we don't really have that privilege, do we?” Angel noticed how, despite being in the presence of someone she knew nothing about, his grandmother remained calm and polite, even slightly playful. It was a weird change of demeanor from what went on in the ground floor, where she had given him the ‘do not fuck with me’ stare of death. It truly made him wonder if this was an act she was putting up to seem tougher than she actually was. It happened a lot in hell. Some demons often chose to keep their morals despite being eternally damned. Quite unfortunately for them, it was hard. Hell was a cruel place, and it slowly rotted your soul and personality from the inside out. Very few sinners were able to keep the morals they fell with, and Angel Dust had to commend those who did. He would never say it out loud, but he found Charlie’s perpetual optimism commendable. Despite being the  _ literal princess of hell, _ she was the complete opposite of what she was supposed —  _ expected _ — to be. That was admirable.

Angel decided to put this thought aside for now. He had other things to worry about. Namely, what exactly he would tell Margot. Perhaps he should go straight to the point, but try to lessen the damage a little. That was the safest plan for now, and, really, the only thing he managed to come up with. “Alright, if you insist,” he playfully responded, leaning his head on the palm of his hand. “But first, I gotta know how much you’re willing to believe.” That was important to know. It would be way easier if he could just tell her the truth and have her believe it without putting up a fight. If not, he’d have to rely on another plan, and he was  _ terrible _ at making plans, especially on the go like that. Angel always worked well under pressure, but he was never asked to actually use his brain at work (except in some circumstances), so he had zero training at the moment.

He watched as Margot paused for a second, considering the question. There was a brief moment of silence between them as she placed her hands together on the table. It was at that moment that Angel noticed she was no longer wearing the hat she’d been so desperately clinging to previously, and, despite her neutral expression, her ears freely showed her emotions. Angel usually kept an eye on Alastor’s ears in hopes that they would be easier to read than his eyes, but he was really good at keeping them in place. It was nearly unnatural. He would have been convinced they didn’t move if it wasn’t for the fact that Angel had seen them twitch once. After what seemed like an eternity, Margot finally looked up, her smile still in place, showing at least some confidence (although with a small hint of hesitance as well), and answered, “I think that, at this point, I'll believe just about anything you tell me.” Angel concluded his grandmother was either really bold or really desperate. Likely the latter. Either way, he wasn’t going to complain about that. It made his job way easier, and he was thankful for that.

Taking a deep breath as his mind raced with a million thoughts per second, Angel Dust looked her in the eyes and said, voice loud and clear, “I’m your grandchild.”

What followed was perhaps the longest period of silence he’d ever been forced to sit through. Angel watched as Margot’s eyes widened for a second, her deer ears going flat against her head. Her smile vanished in record time, a horrified expression taking its place. Her gaze went from Angel to her own hands, which were now shaking. In fact, he noticed that her whole body was shaking, and suddenly the decision to tell her the truth without some sort of preparation seemed like a very bad idea in hindsight. Of course, he couldn’t take it back. What he did with the situation going forward was what was really going to make a difference. He decided he couldn’t handle looking at Margot short-circuiting anymore, and now his cup of coffee seemed much more interesting than it was before. He considered taking another sip, but that felt like the wrong choice at the moment. Angel really wished Margot had a clock somewhere at the moment, because the ticking would at least have been  _ something  _ compared to the torturous silence the two of them were currently sharing. Seriously, where were Keith and his hoes when he needed them? Angel Dust hated silence, because that meant more time with his own thoughts, and, right now, his thoughts were telling him he was a dumbass for thinking any of this was a good idea in the first place. And yet, he knew it was better than doing nothing. If he’d sat still and watched the opportunity go by, he would regret it for the rest of his afterlife.

Angel looked up when he heard what sounded like a sigh, but was actually Margot loudly attempting to quell a panic attack. He was going to ask her if she was okay, even though the answer was a clear ‘fuck no’, but Margot broke the silence before he had a chance to open his mouth. “I… I don’t believe you.” She sounded very shaken up, despite her best efforts to not have a complete mental breakdown in front of her guest. Their cups of coffee had long been forgotten.

Angel Dust had to fight his natural instinct of telling a joke to lighten up the mood, because humor was seriously the last thing they needed right now. “I don’t blame ya, to be honest.” He’d be lying if he said he knew where to go from there. That was his punishment for not coming up with a plan, it seemed. Meanwhile, Margot looked like she was legitimately at the verge of having a stroke. Her hair was messy, her whole body was shaking, and she just seemed very upset in general. Angel couldn’t help but see himself in her shoes. He’d had a three-day identity crisis when he found out he was Alastor’s son, for fuck’s sake! If someone knew about sudden familial issues and the inner crisis that came with them, it was definitely him. Of course, this situation was different, but the rule still applied. After Margot failed to continue the conversation, considering she was too busy trying not to die, he decided to do it instead. “Uh, you okay over there?” The answer was pretty obvious, but he didn’t really know what else to say at the moment. Besides, he was genuinely worried for his grandmother’s dwindling sanity. Things had gone wrong at such an alarming rate that it seemed almost impossible to keep up. He should’ve expected this but, for some reason, he didn’t.

Margot took another deep breath before answering, voice somewhat shaky but under control. “I... I haven't thought about the subject for a while…” Ah, that explained a lot. Was this a sore subject for her? Angel Dust wondered why that could be. However, when he thought a little harder about it, suddenly the answer was obvious. Margot took two more deep breaths before her own breathing got under control. She appeared much more relaxed now. After this was done, she looked Angel in the eyes. Her glare was calm and chilling, a complete opposite of her panicking self. It gave him goosebumps. In that moment, he was forcefully reminded that she truly was Alastor’s mother. “Let us pretend that you are indeed not saying this to mess with me. What reason do I have to believe you?” Things were serious now. Angel had really been hoping she wouldn’t ask this question, because he also didn’t know. Unfortunately for him, it was a reasonable question. He wouldn’t believe himself either.

The silence was back, but now there was an extra sound of ringing in Angel’s ears as he tried to come up with something,  _ anything. _ He looked around the room, hoping the answer to this question would mysteriously come to him (because that was his only strategy at this point), when his eyes finally landed on the flower vase in the middle of the table. His gaze focused onto the larkspurs for a moment, and his stomach sank for a moment before it hit him.  _ That _ was his answer. “Larkspurs,” Angel responded confidently, directing his focus towards Margot once again. “They're your favorite flower, right?” His strategy was bold and probably prone to failure, but this was the only thing he had going for him: irrelevant and obscure knowledge about Margot that no one else but him and his father knew about. Well, at least he hoped so. It wasn’t like people went around announcing their favorite flower for the world to know, right?

Angel Dust really thought it wasn’t possible for Margot to grow paler than she actually was at the moment, but she was really surpassing all of his expectations. He could see the confusion in her eyes, followed by the slow realization, and, finally, panic mixed with denial. He’d witnessed this combination enough during his career that it was pretty easy to spot, besides the fact that he’d also had his fair share of ‘I’m totally not in denial’ moments. Her hands shakily balled into fists. It was very clear that there was enough strength to draw blood, almost like Margot was trying to purposefully harm herself to check if this was a dream. “How do you know that?” she asked, her voice shaky as she avoided his gaze. It seemed like the denial was finally overtaking the panic. This was a strange thing to witness, especially since he had also been in that position when it came to his and Alastor’s relationship. Was that how he came across for three whole days? Now that was something he’d have to think about for a while. But not now. He needed to convince his grandmother that they were indeed related before he was kicked out of the building, as it appeared that Margot was seriously considering this. He didn’t want to blame her, it was understandable that she was distraught and confused and skeptical, but at the same time he didn’t want that to happen.

Angel Dust took a deep breath to remain calm. Between the two of them, he had to be the voice of reason, and that was definitely a first for him. “My father told me,” he answered, trying to sound as logical and honest as possible. “He talks about you a lot.” Was that a creepy thing to say? He hoped not, since it was the truth. Alastor’s love for his mother was endearing and his rambles about her were fun to hear. They had a sense of nostalgia to them. Up until an hour ago Angel thought that was the only way he’d be able to learn about his biological grandmother — through his father’s stories from his childhood —, but the world decided to slap him in the face for daring to believe Margot hadn’t been damned for eternity. Not that he wasn’t happy to meet her but she was in  _ hell, _ a not very nice place to be. And that meant she did something pretty big to end up there. It wasn’t like she accidentally stepped on someone’s foot once and god decided she should just suffer for the rest of her existence. Angel was curious, but also scared at the same time.  _ Why _ was she in hell?

Margot’s shaky movements brought him back to reality. She still seemed unwilling to accept the truth, which made him wonder how long this would actually take. “It can’t be,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The only reason Angel was able to hear her was due to the fact that the whole apartment was completely silent. He watched as his grandmother closed her eyes, the world suddenly becoming too much to handle. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, and her words were full of pain and disbelief. There was no answer to this question. Why was he doing  _ what _ to her? Telling her the truth? Existing? What did she mean by that? Angel Dust didn’t even know what to say at that point. He’d run out of ideas, and it was hard to not be frustrated at Margot for making this more difficult than it had to be. However, when he actually took a moment to cool down and think about it, she wasn’t really ‘making things difficult’ just by being in denial. He’d done the same thing. If he dared complain about her behavior, he’d be a massive hypocrite.

“You know—” Angel started, trying to keep a level head, “—if I wanted to do this whole thing for clout I'd pretend I'm related to Albert Einstein or some shit.” This wasn’t meant to sound like a jab, it was more of a joke to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately for him, it ended up coming across as one anyway as his annoyance and impatience were showing in the way he talked. He’d have to keep the jokes to a minimum from now on. That was, if Margot didn’t outright kick him out. He had nothing but utmost respect for her due to the fact that she had the patience of a saint, besides the fact that she was, objectively speaking, taking this way better than he had.

Thankfully, Margot said nothing in reply. She did not sass him back, nor did she get angry or threaten to kick him out for being a smartass (the latter being his biggest concern at the moment). Instead she just ran a hand through her messy hair, her ears twitching on reflex. She no longer seemed to be as in denial as she’d been before, and Angel Dust felt a small spark of hope light up in his heart. He didn’t  _ want _ to have hope, because the disappointment that would follow would be bitter and maddening. This had been a cycle he was all too familiar with. It’d led to a series of mistakes on his part, with the first and main one being clinging onto the hope that his father would accept him for who he was. That obviously did not work out well for him. At all. It all went downhill from there, and now he was forever trapped into a contract with an overlord who never seemed to be satisfied. All of this was proof that hoping was literally worthless. However, he was so tired of having to come up with things to tell Margot that he might as well pull a Charlie Magne and have at least one tiny scrape of hope in a situation that seemed completely hopeless. It was hard to admit it, but the princess was rubbing off on him…  _ somewhat. _ He would never admit it out loud, though.

“You’re…” Margot started hesitantly, which prompted Angel Dust to focus on her once again. He held onto the little hope he still had left. “You’re not joking, are you?” she finally asked, her voice finally stabilizing as she slowly put all the clues together. There was some sort of emotion in her eyes that couldn’t be recognized, but it was definitely there. Suddenly having hope didn’t seem as stupid as he once thought, because this was a true blessing from the heavens. However, it could also mean either of two things: reluctant acceptance, or bitter resignation. This made him swallow down a sigh, because things had  _ just _ gotten better for him. Still, it wasn’t time to give up now. Not yet.

“I’m not.”

To his surprise, Margot did not argue with him any further. She simply put her hands on the table as she slowly stood up with as much elegance as she could muster at the moment. Her eyes were closed, almost as if she was dreading what would happen next. Perhaps she was. Who was he to say anyway? Angel Dust watched his grandmother slowly walk up to him with curiosity and hesitant. Her steps were gentle, almost fearful, as she walked around the table, making her way to where he was currently sitting, like she was trying to sneak up on him. Her hands were balled into fists once again. That led Angel to the conclusion that he was either about to be sucker punched into oblivion or forcefully thrown out of the apartment. Neither of these options sounded very appealing at the moment. He was aware that, with his unnatural spider strength, he could easily restrain her if she tried to do either of those things, but he would not. He was already on thin ice as it was, and trying to fight his way into staying at someone’s apartment against their wishes would not help improve his grandmother’s impression of him at all. So he would simply accept it if she decided to do that. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t on guard at the moment. If he was going to be punched and there was no way around it, the least he could do was try and make it less painful. It was that mentality that allowed him to survive Valentino’s punishments for so long, after all.

After he’d finally accepted that things might not turn out the way he wanted, Angel shifted his focus towards Margot, who was now standing in front of him. It was then that he noticed her eyes were no longer their usual shade of honey, but instead glowing in the bright blue color he’d seen before when she used her powers of levitation. She had one of her hands up, index finger pointing directly towards him. That was… odd. What was she doing? “Before I do this, I just want to say…” she finally spoke up, and he couldn’t help but notice how  _ distorted _ her voice sounded, like she was speaking through a broken filter. Almost like Alastor. “This is going to be a little unpleasant. I’m sorry.”

Angel Dust opened his mouth to ask what the hell she was talking about, but he never had the chance.

All he knew was that suddenly his mind had gone blank. Not only that, but  _ everything  _ had gone blank, as if the entire apartment had been filled by a blinding light that could not be escaped. Angel’s body went cold for a moment there, like he’d been thrown into a bathtub filled with water and buckets upon buckets of ice, and a chill ran down his spine as the sensation slowly died down, suddenly turning into pure numbness. It felt like he’d lost control of… well,  _ everything, _ body and mind alike, and was now nowhere and everywhere at the same time. All of this happened in the span of only a few seconds. Or maybe it was minutes, or days, months, years, centuries... He didn’t even know anymore. It was like nothing no longer mattered. Angel felt himself slipping, losing a grasp on his sense of self. What was even happening to him? He couldn’t remember anymore. Was he… dead? If so, how did he die? He tried to think, but nothing came to him, nothing at all. It was like he was floating through the cosmos, a being without a body and only its mind intact. It was terrifying, but soothing at the same time. A sensation like none other, because in space there was no concept of physical bodies, only ideas. It wasn’t that bad anymore. He was starting to get used to this...

And just like that, it was over.

Letting out a gasp for air, Angel Dust suddenly jerked awake, like he’d just woken up from a bad dream, his whole body trembling for a moment as his mind tried to catch up, finally filling in the blanks. In all of his years doing hard drugs and having all sorts of weird and inexplicable hallucinations, he’d never had this kind of experience before. It was out of this world, it was unique, and it was fucking _terrifying._ It’d been way worse than any bad trip he’d previously had. What the fuck had just happened? It only took him a few milliseconds to register Margot’s presence at his side, and now things made sense. _She_ _did this to him._ She’d been there when it happened, her eyes glowing ominously, finger raised, pointing straight towards his heart. Angel had been wary before, wondering if he would be thrown out, but now he was being consumed by pure anger, because he wished she’d simply done that instead of whatever the fuck she just did to his brain. He briskly turned to Margot, eyes narrowed, ready to indignantly ask just _what the fuck_ that was, until he noticed tears running down her cheeks, followed shortly after by soft sobbing as she placed a hand over her mouth to try and silence herself. So, instead of chewing her out there and then, he just stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Comforting people (especially crying people) had never been his strongest suit.

After her sobbing died down, Margot was finally able to express herself in coherent sentences. “It’s you! I can’t believe it,” she cried out, lunging forward and wrapping her arms around Angel as she pulled him into a hug, burying her face into his neck. The sudden, unexpected movement made Angel’s muscles tense up as he simply stood there, unsure of what to do. He also couldn’t help but notice how  _ cold _ Margot was. It felt like he was being hugged by a walking corpse that escaped from a freezer. “Panny, you’re here!” The nickname caught Angel Dust off guard, but he didn’t care much for that. The fact that Margot really believed him now was the true surprise. This filled him with relief, and he felt himself somewhat relaxing in her embrace. The terrible existential trip he had was almost worth it.  _ Almost. _ After a few seconds of his grandmother trying not to cry again while hugging him, she finally let go and wiped her eyes, chuckling weakly. “S-sorry, got a little emotional there…” With that said, she slowly made her way back to her seat. Angel couldn’t help but notice how she was lethargic, like all of her energy had been drained from her.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, this has been the second most interesting emotional interaction I've ever had,” Angel commented, finally feeling safe enough to crack a few jokes now that his grandmother believed he was telling the truth. He did have to wonder, however, why she suddenly believed him. It must’ve been related to that weird-ass trip he’d had earlier. “I should really throw my emotions away, this fucking sucks.”

To his surprise, Margot actually laughed out loud at his poor attempt to make a joke, and he didn’t know if what he said was actually funny or if she was so tired she’d laugh at anything at this point. But hey, he’d take it. Anything to break the ice, he supposed. “I guess I should’ve noticed sooner,” she replied, her gaze softening as she confidently looked him in the eyes, not a speck of doubt to be seen. “You’re just like your father.” Ah, so he hadn’t been the only one to notice. Well, he probably should’ve expected this. Still, he wasn’t sure if Margot was saying this just because she was his grandmother or not, but, either way, it didn’t really matter, did it?

Angel put a hand on his chest in faux-hurt. “Wow, that’s the worst insult I’ve received all day.”

Margot chuckled. “Well, you two  _ do _ have the same sense of humor, it seems.”

“And  _ that’s _ the second meanest insult I’ve received all day. You’re on thin ice, lady,” he commented jokingly. He wasn’t sure if he should start calling her ‘grandma’ just yet. They may be related, but for now they were basically still strangers. Angel knew a good deal about Margot from his father’s stories, but that was about it. To Margot, however, he was virtually a random guy that she just found out she’s related to. She knew him as a baby, that much was clear, but she didn’t really know his human name besides the outdated one he’d received at birth, considering she called him ‘Panny’ (clearly a nickname for Pandora) instead of ‘Tony’ or something like that. That wasn’t really surprising at all. Not many people knew his human name besides the Ragno family (plus a few associates) and Alastor. Angel decided not to focus on that for now. He had another question for her in mind, one he’d been putting off asking for way too long for his liking “Anyway, can I ask  _ what the absolute hell  _ you did to me just now?” He still hadn’t forgotten about that, and he likely wouldn’t for a long time, kind of like a bad dream that stuck with you. He noticed how Margot became apprehensive upon hearing his question, her ears dropping as she avoided his gaze for a moment, almost as if she was ashamed of what she’d done. It was at that moment Angel realized he could’ve asked the question in a less hostile way.

“It’s one of my powers, Memory Connection,” she explained, tapping one of her fingers on the table rhythmically to ease her nervousness. “Which means I can, uh, see certain memories.” Angel could see why she looked ashamed of what she had done. He himself felt slightly violated upon hearing that. If she could access his memories, who knew what she’d seen? The thought was horrifying, especially considering he had some repressed memories he did not want to remember, and some that he wasn’t yet ready to share with other people. Margot probably realized the implications of her words, because she hastily added, “But I can assure you I didn’t see any, um,  _ intimate _ memories or anything of the sort. My power only allows me to see memories that are relevant to what I’m looking for.” Angel Dust didn’t know if she was lying or not, which meant he would have to take her word for it. Oh, how the tables had turned. Well, he might as well let this go. There was no point in arguing about it anymore.

Angel shrugged. “Okay, so I'm gonna pretend this ain't a huge invasion of privacy for a moment there.” He could visibly see the relief Margot felt upon hearing that sentence, and this somehow made her explanation feel more genuine. Perhaps she was worried he wouldn’t believe her, which he kind of didn’t at first. “If ya had the ability to just see if I was lying, why didn't you do that in the first place?” They had wasted around ten minutes or so arguing back and forth about whether he was or not her long-lost grandchild, and all of it could’ve been avoided if she had just induced her Memory Connection slash Existential Crisis Of Doom Trip power the moment he stated his claim. Now, he wasn’t accusing her of anything, because god knew he’d also had some brain hiccups before when it came to his abilities (or his second pair or arms), but he wanted to know if she’d deliberately put off using it or if she just forgot.

“Well, it's not that simple…” Margot told him, putting one hand on top of the other as she straightened her back, looking serious for a moment. “You see, Memory Connection is my special ability, my most powerful one amongst some other minor powers I have. For it to work, there needs to be a, uh,  _ mutual investment, _ emotionally speaking, and it's also very physically draining for me. And, you know, sometimes it can be a little... scarring for the other person involved.” She sighed as her gaze shifted to her own hands, like she didn’t want to face Angel at that moment. “I’ve only used this power twice in my entire afterlife, not counting this time, so I don’t really know how it is at the other end since both the demons I’ve used it on ran away screaming afterwards.” That was a funny, if not a little terrifying, mental image.

Angel decided to enlighten her by doing his best to try and describe how it felt like. It’d been a few minutes since it happened, though, so his memory of the event wasn’t as fresh as before. “It kinda felt like I was tripping on Salvia and having an existential crisis at the same time.” That was the best explanation he had at the moment, and he knew that because he had, indeed, tripped on Salvia while having an existential crisis. Terrible idea. Never again. “Wait, you said you have other powers?” Angel asked, trying to change the subject, because he did not want to be reminded of that memory in particular, or the trip he’d just had a few minutes ago. Besides, he was a little curious now. Most demons were lucky to have one, and only one, power to rely on, and it was somewhat rare for a regular sinner to have more than two. Maybe it was because she was related to Alastor. He had already fallen in hell with a bunch of freaky powers, so… yeah, that was probably it.

“Yes,” Margot confirmed with a nod. “Most of them seem to be ghost-related, though, like possession and invisibility.”

Angel Dust no longer made any attempts to hide his curiosity and interest at this point, because that was one hell of an answer, and it only led to more questions. “You can possess people?!” he asked, his voice a bit higher than normal. He couldn’t help being excited about this. It was one of the first things he was now learning about Margot that came directly from her instead of second-hand sources. Besides, it wasn’t like Alastor knew about her powers, or that she was in hell at all, so that was one piece of information about her that he knew and his father didn’t.

Margot chuckled weakly, still feeling rather fatigued. It seemed like she wasn’t going to regain her energy anytime soon. “Yes,” she responded, eyeing her cup of coffee tentatively, but ultimately deciding that she wasn’t tired enough to just drink lukewarm coffee like that. “I found that one out the hard way. It sounds fun, but trust me, it's really not. I cannot stay inside their bodies for too long or our souls will fuse together, and if I don't return in time my body will remain soulless and die.” Angel knew he was making a face, but he didn’t really care at the moment, because  _ yikes, _ that was a horrifying piece of trivia he wasn’t prepared to hear. He could understand why Margot wouldn’t want to use her powers in that case. Who would? The soul was one of the most important parts of a demon, and without it the body would just decompose. Besides that, the thought of his own soul fusing with the soul of  _ anyone _ shook him to the core.

“Yeah, that sucks,” he agreed, before it hit him. “Wait, how the hell did you figure that out?” It definitely wasn’t a firsthand experience, considering Margot was still in front of him, her soul intact and her body very much alive— well, as alive as one could be in hell anyway.

“Well, it turns out I'm not the first person in hell to fall down with ghost powers. There's quite a bit of information about possession on Voogle about that.” Margot lowered her gaze for a moment, the flashbacks of the things she’d read coming back all at once. “It was... horrifying.” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Well, it doesn’t really matter, since I don’t really use my powers anyway. Except for invisibility. That one’s kind of useful.” After that, the two of them fell into silence once again. Angel Dust was thinking of more questions to ask, but he was so overwhelmed that he didn’t really know which questions he wanted answered first. Meanwhile, Margot was avoiding eye contact and playing with her hands anxiously, which seemed a bit suspicious. Finally, she decided to say what they both had been thinking, “I know you have questions.” Angel felt relief wash over him, because at least one of them had the guts to acknowledge that. “I have questions too, but I think yours are more important at the moment.”

Angel nodded. “If you say so…” With that said, he went silent as he tried to think. There were so many questions, but so little time. Charlie would definitely ask him why he took so long to return from work (which was what he’d been doing before the turf war), and his utter inability to say a single lie would get him in trouble again. Fuck. Well, he had to make this count. It wasn’t like this would be the only time he’d see Margot anyway. They could meet up again at a later date to discuss things further. But that meant he would have to wait, and waiting sucked. So, for now, he’d ask one question he’d been itching to ask ever since he realized Margot was his grandmother. “Alright, here goes: how’d ya end up in hell?” It was good to know that he’d finally have an answer to this question. However, as soon as she heard it, Margot became visibly apprehensive, her muscles tensing and hands balling into fists as her ears flattened against her head. Well, things weren’t getting off to a good start.  _ Great. _ “Hey, I ain’t gonna judge,” Angel assured her. Lord knew he’d done some shitty things when he was alive.

Margot bit the inside of her cheek, sounding hesitant. “You promise?” she asked, giving him puppy eyes that could easily rival Charlie’s. God, he couldn’t handle puppy eyes.

“Pinky promise,” he answered, extending his pinky finger towards her. It took Margot a moment to process this, and when she did she snort-laughed, raising her own pinky finger in return, locking the two of them together for a second. This somewhat reminded her of when Alastor was still a child. Pinky promises weren’t a thing back when they were alive, but if they had been then her son would have definitely made her do them. He’d always been big on keeping his word, as well as encouraging his mother to do the same. No wonder he became a dealmaker in hell. After all was said and done, Angel withdrew his hand, using it to rest his head on. At the same time, Margot took a deep breath to calm her nerves. He had vowed not to judge her, so perhaps she could relax a little.

It was time to confess.

“I am here…” Margot started, and then trailed off, almost choking on her own saliva out of nervousness. She scolded herself mentally for that. It wasn’t time to give up now. “I am here for the sin of lust.” Well, now Angel was all ears. It seemed like they were on the same boat, then. Even after hearing that, however, he did not dare say anything just yet. This was his grandmother’s moment, and he wouldn’t dare interrupt her. “I’ve never told anyone about this. Ever. Neither in life, nor in death. It was… It was too shameful.” She lowered her gaze, taking a deep breath. “But I think I’ve lied about this for way too long. My time is up.” And then, without hesitating, she looked straight into Angel’s eyes, and he noticed a spark of pure decisiveness in her golden-colored eyes that he’d never seen before.

Another deep breath.

“...I cheated on my husband.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, things are getting heated (sips tea)
> 
> Alas, I must end the chapter right here, folks. Like I said, I would've made it longer, but then y'all would have to read a 20k behemoth of a chapter and it would also take one more month to write lol. Anyway, more information about Margot, yay! This isn't relevant at all to the story, but I wanna share this info with you guys: Margot is based on the white stag, which is just a deer with leucism. White stags have been represented in all sorts of ancient literature as elusive, mysterious, and even holy. The Celtic people said they were messangers of the underworld, so I chose to incorporate those interpretations into her design to make her a ghost deer hybrid.
> 
> This information isn't really needed to comprehend the story at all, but I thought it'd be fun to share this with you guys because I've spent way too much time reading articles on wikipedia about this. Anyhow, I hope you guys are ready for the next chapter, because I sure am ^v^
> 
> Today's chapter is called 'Unite synchronization', yet another Homestuck song. Yes, I know, but I thought this one would be fitting for a multitude of reasons. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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